


Ocean Eyes

by baridalive



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Family, Flashbacks, Flirty Swordfighting, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pirates, Slow Burn, admiral!mark, bed sharing, like SLOW BURN slow burn, pirate captain!donghyuck, they're in love but stubborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-10-22 04:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/pseuds/baridalive
Summary: Donghyuck, or Captain Haechan as most refer to him, is the most feared pirate in the Caribbean Sea. His sworn enemy, Admiral Mark Lee of the King's Navy, has made it his life goal to take him down. In an unexpected and unfortunate series of coincidences, their paths converge once more, chaos ensues, and everything is just a little more complicated than it appears.Alternatively:Donghyuck is a pirate, Mark hates him, and nothing can go right from them being stuck together to deal with a common enemy.





	1. Chenle is the Harbinger of Doom and General Unwanted Attention

**Author's Note:**

> there are going to be some creative liberties taken with geographical and historical accuracy :D  
> general tw: there's some underage drinking sporadically, but there will be some other more chapter-specific tw's as we go on, so just pay attention to those!  
> the chapters switch perspectives a bit, but it will be made clear by the labels at the beginning of the chapters so don't worry! (and when the chapters say "present day", think mid 1700's)  
> this has been my child since december 2018 and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!  
> <3

**PRESENT DAY - Lee Donghyuck**

**A Nondescript Island in the Caribbean Sea**

* * *

 

Donghyuck hates being recognized. Honestly, he really does. It isn’t as if he parades himself around as the most feared pirate captain in the entire Caribbean or anything of the sort. In fact, he always takes care to wear a hat that covers his sun-bleached red hair and that shadows over his unique golden earring and bright blue eyes; all of them making him rather easily identifiable.

He just wants to have a drink in the middle of the afternoon in this dingy bar on some small island in the middle of the Caribbean in peace, but he doesn’t have such luck. At least, not today.

“Don’t suppose ya heard about that attack, did ya?” The scratchy voice is loud, cutting through the minimal noise in the nearly-empty bar this afternoon. Donghyuck turns his head nearly imperceptibly to the side as he takes another sip of his beer to see a group of three old men convened in the corner of the bar.

“No, ‘m afraid not. What happened?” A different, but equally scratchy, voice resonates through the air. Donghyuck pinpoints this speaker as the one farthest from him, and the first speaker as the one in the middle with an eyepatch.

“It was a tragedy! Half the island was completely burned down by some new hot-shot pirate who was apparently lookin’ for somethin’,” Eyepatch speaks, his voice low and grave.

“Which island?” The third asks, taking a swig of his drink after he inquires, tapping his peg leg on the wooden floorboards.

“Pearl Bay.” Eyepatch leans back in his chair, his tone turning almost smug as if he is proud that he is privy to all of this information.

Donghyuck grips his beer mug with a white-knuckled grasp, the realization that half of the island he grew up on had been completely destroyed dawning on him slower than the sun. He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice one of the old men calling for him.

“You there! Young man with the hat!” Pegleg calls, making Donghyuck whip around.

“Can I help you?” Donghyuck is vaguely surprised that his voice comes out smooth and even, not a single trace of his hurried thoughts as he speaks.

“You look like a sailor I once knew,” He comments, cocking his head to the side.

“Must be a coincidence,” Donghyuck laughs, uncomfortable. Pegleg shakes his head, standing up to walk over to him.

“You look like a young wannabe sailor that lived on Pearl Bay a decade or so ago. You helped me mend my boat.”

“I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else.” Donghyuck tries not to grimace as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re that boy. I’m sure of it,” Pegleg insists. By this time, both Eyepatch and the other men have come over and huddled behind Pegleg, peering over his shoulders in curiosity. “I just wanted to know if you knew anything else about the Pearl Bay attack. It was a wonderful place.”

“I haven’t been to Pearl Bay in a long time, sir,” Donghyuck sighs. “I can be of no service to you.”

All of a sudden, Pegleg reaches forward and knocks the hat off of Donghyuck’s head, unveiling his sun-bleached red hair, blazing blue eyes, and the golden earring curled around and pierced through the shell of his left ear. At the same time, Donghyuck stands up and draws his sword whose sheath had been hidden under his coat, pointing it at the man’s throat.

“That was _not_ the smartest idea.” Donghyuck’s voice is low in warning.

“Captain Haechan? How are you—” Pegleg’s eyes widen as he speaks frantically, his brain trying to process everything that is happening.

“After my run-in with the Royal Navy I’ve been keeping a low profile, but it looks like that was just ruined thanks to you.” To say that Donghyuck is annoyed at this point would be the grand understatement of the century.

A quick glance around the bar tells Donghyuck that no one else has seen him yet because the bartender had gone off to the back room some time ago and hasn’t come back. Donghyuck takes a calculated step backwards and flips his hat up into his free hand with the toe of his boot without once lowering his sword.

“Speak not of this encounter, gentlemen. I must be on my way.”

“But you _are_ the boy from Pearl Bay, are you not?” Pegleg asks, but Donghyuck doesn’t respond. His only answer is the small smile that graces his face before he puts the hat back on and sheaths his sword.

“I trust that you’ll take care of my tab as well.” Donghyuck doesn’t even turn around to see them nodding as he stalks out of the bar into the bright afternoon sunlight and suffocating humidity of the day.

He digs his nails into his palms to ground himself after that momentary adrenaline rush. Donghyuck knows he can’t stay here now because as much as he would like to, he can’t trust those men to keep quiet about him being on the island.

Donghyuck increases his pace as he walks down the main road that leads from the port into town. Somewhere between a closed barbershop and a bustling candy store, Donghyuck slips his hand inside of his jacket to the hidden pocket where he keeps his father’s journal, just to check that it was still there.

A sigh of relief pushes its way past Donghyuck’s lips as he traces his finger over the leather binding of it for a mere moment before removing his hand and reverting his expression back to one of slightly amused impassiveness.

The expression doesn’t stick around for long, though, because a certain petite and blond crew member of his comes barreling down the street towards him.

“Captain, captain!” Chenle calls out, skidding to a half just in front of Donghyuck. “Have you heard the news?”

Donghyuck frowns, partly because of how loud Chenle had just shouted and partly because Chenle usually doesn’t figure out ‘news’ in ethical manners.

“Depends on what news you’re talking about, but catch your breath before you try and tell me anything.”

Chenle takes a moment to calm his breathing with a hand on his chest before he launches into an extraneously long story about him and Jisung running into a group of fishermen talking about the same thing Donghyuck had just heard in the bar.

“I heard about that, yes. Where’s Jisung?” Donghyuck puts a hand on Chenle’s shoulder and steers him out of the street before a carriage can run him over.

“Jisung’s back on _Helios_ already, but I had to find you right away,” The younger man explains, twisting his hands together; a nervous habit he has no doubt picked up from Jisung.

“Well you found me, so let’s head back.” Donghyuck starts off again, but Chenle tugs on his wrist to keep him from going anywhere.

“There’s more. I know more than what you heard.”

Donghyuck has to raise an eyebrow at this.

“And what might you know?”

“The name of the pirate who destroyed your home island and why he did it.” Chenle lets all of the words tumble out in a rush, and it takes Donghyuck a moment to decipher all of them and make sure he head them all properly.

“How in the King’s name do you know all of that?” Donghyuck lowers his voice, speaking in a harsh whisper so as to not attract attention to them, or at least any more attention than two men standing in the street with swords and guns warrants.

“The fishermen Jisung and I talked to were there the day it happened and they overheard the captain of the ship himself!” Chenle huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s clearly annoyed that Donghyuck doesn’t believe him, but no risks can be taken in a situation like this one.

“So are you going to tell me or not?”

“His name is Taeyong, and he’s looking for the same thing as you.”

“He’s looking for Isle?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen and his hand twitches to fly back to the pocket where the journal resides. “I didn’t think anyone else knew of the place.”

“That’s what we all thought, captain, but it looks like someone else knows and is determined to find it no matter the cost.” Chenle stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers to keep himself from twiddling his thumbs. Donghyuck knows Chenle is aware that when his crew is nervous, he is nervous.

“So we have competition now?” Donghyuck sums up, his brain running a million miles a minute as he tries to wrap his head around the situation at hand. 

“I suppose if that’s what you want to call it, yes.” Chenle simply shrugs. Donghyuck whistles out through his teeth in a tense exhale.

“Let’s get back to _Helios_ then. It looks like we have some things to discuss with the others.”

Chenle puts a hand on Donghyuck’s back to pat him in assurance that he understands, but Donghyuck arches away from the contact.

“Don’t do that, Lele.” Donghyuck groans, feeling pain flare up in a long line across his back. Chenle retracts his hand as if it is burned.

“Sorry, captain. I didn’t know…”

“No one does.” Donghyuck forces a smile onto his face.

“It’s had months to heal, though! And why don’t you just go to Renjun about this? He could figure out a way to ease the pain and quicken the healing process if you’d stop being so stubborn for once in your life and ask him for help!” Chenle admonishes.

“It’s not that simple.” Donghyuck starts back off down the street, making Chenle rush to catch up with his quick pace. “You know how things between Renjun and I are.”

“But they _are_ that simple, D—Haechan.” Chenle nearly calls Donghyuck his real name before realizing that they are still out in public and rights himself before he can slip up for real. “All you need to do it talk to Renjun and he’ll help you. No matter what he thinks of you and you think of him, you saved his life and he owes you. Big time.”

Donghyuck mulls it over, letting a comfortable silence stretch between him and Chenle as they make their way back to where the small rowboat that would bring them out to _Helios_ is tied up at the port. Donghyuck actually thinks for a moment that Chenle forgot about making him talk to Renjun but the moment they step aboard, his hopes are dashed.

“You need to tell Renjun about it.” Chenle puts his hands on his hips as Donghyuck takes off his hat.

“Chenle, I—” Donghyuck leans his head back in exasperation, but a sharp voice cuts him off.

“Tell me about what?” Renjun walks down the stairs to the main deck from the helm where Jeno and Jaemin stand, assessing some maps.

Donghyuck glances at Chenle, pleading, but the look from the younger tells Donghyuck that he’s not getting out of this so easily.

“It’s the cut on my back.”

Chenle nods in approval when Renjun’s eyebrows pinch together and his lips purse, aware that Donghyuck is in the hands of their healer and won’t be getting away until Renjun is satisfied. He slips away from Donghyuck’s side, undoubtedly to go find Jisung.

“What happened?” Renjun demands, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the railing.

“Chenle patted me on the back.” It takes everything in Donghyuck not to mumble his response in shame.

“Just a _pat_ has _Chenle_ concerned?” Renjun looks astounded, and unfortunately for a good reason.

“Evidently.” Donghyuck shifts his weight between his feet, using every ounce of willpower to keep eye contact with Renjun’s piercing gaze. Renjun glances back up and Jeno and Jaemin, who are still completely absorbed in their charts before turning back to Donghyuck.

“Let me take a look at you.” Renjun catches Donghyuck by the wrist on his way by before half inviting himself into Donghyuck’s quarters just under the helm and ordering him to take a seat on the bed.

“Take off your jacket and shirt so I can see what I’m dealing with,” Renjun commands, grabbing some bottles out of the satchel he always carries and spreading them out on Donghyuck’s desk. The bottles are filled of all different kinds and colors of salves and medicines that each had their unique use; all of the understanding of those are beyond Donghyuck, though.

Donghyuck obeys, discarding his hat to shoulder off his jacket and tug his shirt over his head so that Renjun can inspect the cut that, up until this day, everyone on board the ship believed was healed. As soon as Donghyuck’s shirt is placed down on the mattress beside him, Renjun’s sharp intake of breath tells Donghyuck all he needs to know about the condition of the injury.

“Why did you never come to me about this?” The healer asks, selecting a few of the bottles from the ones he had laid out before climbing onto the bed to kneel behind Donghyuck’s back.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck tries to deflect.

“That’s a complete lie,” Renjun accuses, pressing the salve a little bit harder than necessary into the re-opened part of the wound so Donghyuck can feel the harsh sting.

“Fine, fine!” Donghyuck wriggles out of Renjun’s stone-like grip and seats himself in a more comfortable position as the stinging subsides. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak, alright? I just want to be strong for the crew, and them seeing their captain debilitated isn’t the best thing to show them!”

“That’s stupid,” Renjun snorts ungracefully from behind him, shifting on the bed so he can continue to treat him.

Donghyuck just buries his face in his hands and sighs, long and deep.

“I know.”

“You know they’d think you were stronger if you asked for help once in a while.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You’re an idiot, Donghyuck,” Renjun clicks his tongue. He still refuses to call Donghyuck ‘captain’, but Donghyuck tolerates it on the grounds of Renjun being able to heal nearly every sickness and injury anyone in the crew has obtained since Renjun came aboard.

“I’m full aware of that. You tell me every morning,” Donghyuck hisses when Renjun puts a different cool liquid onto the half-healed scar.

There’s a knock on the door of Donghyuck’s quarters, the soft rapping and the quiet voice asking permission to enter lets Donghyuck know that it’s Jisung standing outside.

“Come in, Sungie,” Donghyuck calls and tries to turn his body so Jisung won’t be able to see the scar right away, but to no avail.

“Is that the scar that—” Jisung gasps, pushing the door to Donghyuck’s quarters open and stopping short when he sees the nasty cut still open in some parts, weeping blood down his bare back, a pale green salve coating the other parts.

“Yes.” Donghyuck cuts him short, not wanting to hear the name of the person who had inflicted the wound upon him.

“But that confrontation was months ago, captain!” Jisung nearly whines as he sits down on the bed across from Donghyuck and Renjun.

“So kind of you to remember, Jisung.” Donghyuck’s voice is sharp at first, but when he sees the closest person he’s ever had to a brother flinch away from him, he softens his tone. “I just don’t like thinking about it.”

Jisung chews on the inside of his cheek, but relaxes as he gets the memo. Donghyuck doesn’t apologize very often, if at all. This is about the closest thing he’s gotten to an apology within the last year, which is saying something because Jisung is unabashedly Donghyuck’s favorite.

“Did Chenle tell you the rest of the news?” Jisung changes the topic back to something a bit more relevant to the day’s events.

“There’s more to this?” Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow. Jisung nods, uncharacteristically nervous.

“Apparently, the word is that someone’s already pursuing the captain that destroyed Pearl Bay.” Jisung pauses, looking up and meeting Donghyuck’s gaze for the first time since he mentioned that there is more to the story.

“Who is it, Sungie?” Donghyuck urges gently, placing a hand on Jisung’s knee.

“Admiral Mark Lee of the Royal Navy has been deployed by the King himself to subdue the threat.” Jisung lets it all out in one breath, but Donghyuck doesn’t miss a word.The slice in his back seems to burn just thinking about the young Admiral and their last confrontation.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Donghyuck groans in frustration; Jisung slowly shakes his head. “This just got ten times harder.”

“What just got ten times harder?” Jeno, Donghyuck’s second-in-command, raps gently on the doorframe to alert the people inside the room of his arrival.

“Stopping this irritating new pirate that has just made his way onto our radar in the most unfortunate of manners.” Donghyuck explains the situation to Jeno as Renjun bandages him up, wrapping thick white gauze around his torso to seal in the salve.

Jeno whistles lightly at the end of the explanation. “So this guy now has us _and_ the Royal Navy on his tail? He’d better say his prayers.” Donghyuck nods, sliding on his shirt gingerly over the fresh bandages.

“But since we’re going to be inevitably dealing with the Brits, Taeyong shouldn’t be the only one praying.”

“But this time we’ll know what to expect from Mark!” Jeno points out, but Donghyuck just shakes his head.

“You can’t predict a man like Mark Lee. I learned that the hard way.” Donghyuck makes a noncommittal gesture to his back to prove his point. Jisung reaches out and takes Donghyuck’s hand, playing with the older’s fingers as he speaks.

“His point is that we won’t let anything like that happen to you again. He’s slightly more predictable now because we know he’s spontaneous,” Jisung says softly. “We’ll be ready, and there won’t be a repeat of last time.”

Donghyuck purses his lips, but nods nonetheless.

“Jeno, go grab Jaemin from the helm. We need to have a group discussion. And Chenle, you can stop hiding just outside the doorway now.” Jeno laughs and walks out of the room when Chenle shuffles his way guiltily into Donghyuck’s quarters when the captain calls him in.

“I didn’t think you knew I was there.” He sits down next to Jisung on the bed, tucking his feet carefully underneath him.

“You’re never too far from Jisung.” Donghyuck pats Chenle’s knee. “You also forget that the doors are made of glass and I can see your reflection in the other one.”

Chenle whips around to see the doorway from Donghyuck’s perspective to see that he could easily see the reflection of one door in the other.

“Oh.”

Jisung laughs, flicking Chenle’s thigh.

“This is why Hyuck doesn’t let you do reconnaissance missions. You lack the art of subtlety.” Jisung waves his hands in front of them dramatically, but Chenle only whacks them away.

“He doesn’t let you and your gangly limbs go either!” Chenle complains. Jisung opens his mouth to retort, but Jeno returning with Jaemin in tow brings the argument to a grinding halt.

“What’s happening?” Jaemin glances around the room. Donghyuck lets him observe the fact that everyone is there before he gestures for him to take a seat. “What’s this about Mark Lee and Pearl Bay?”

Donghyuck recounts everything he knows, allowing small interjections from Jisung and Chenle as he brings Jaemin up to speed on the situation. It takes Jaemin a moment to respond after he finishes, letting everything sink in.

“So,” he begins. “We are going to have to deal with two people that are equally likely to stab you?” Donghyuck snorts.

“Hopefully not simultaneously,” Donghyuck replies cheekily, but when Jaemin glares at him, he raises his hands placatingly. “Yes, but no one is going to get stabbed. We’re all going to watch each other’s backs and make sure of it.”

“So what’s the plan of action then?” Jaemin nods, leaning back on his hands from his cross-legged position on the floor.

“We need to figure out a way to deal with the young Admiral so he doesn’t keep slicing me, or any of us, up while we’re on similar courses. Then, I need to find a way to talk to Taeyong, and I need him alive. I need to figure out how he knows about the Isle and how _much_ he knows.”

“Do you think he has a journal of his own?” Jisung shifts beside him.

Donghyuck draws his eyebrows together and bites his lip in thought, but shakes his head after a moment.

“It’s impossible. My father only made one as far as I can tell, and it was left with me.”

“But there are other places that legend is recorded, at least most likely. And by figuring out where, it could lead us closer to the Isle of the Lost Sun itself,” Renjun hums.

“And the treasure inside of it!” Chenle grins widely and rubs his hands together.

“Right.” Donghyuck grabs his jacket from where he had put it down, feeling through the leather for the journal which is still seated snugly in the inner lining of the jacket just in front of where Donghyuck’s heart would be if he is wearing it.

He had gotten the jacket as a gift from Yixing years ago, but he had created that little pocket himself to fit the journal that his father had left him with on the doorstep of the orphanage on Pearl Bay. It was the sole clue to figuring out who his father was, and Donghyuck almost never let it out of his sight or grasp.

“So, Captain Haechan,” Jeno begins with a smile, getting up from where he was sitting next to Jaemin on the floor. “Are we setting course to Pearl Bay?”

“No, set a course for Tortuga.” Donghyuck shrugs on his jacket, standing as he addresses the crew in the room.

“Tortuga? Why Tortuga of all places?” Jisung frowns, confusion marring his features.

“A little detour is in order. It looks as if there’s a certain someone that I have to deal with.” Donghyuck grins as he runs a hand through his hair, letting his fingers trace over his earring for a moment before he drops them back to his side.

“Are you telling me that Mark is going to be at Tortuga?” Jeno asks, following Donghyuck out of the room as he makes his way to the helm. “How do you know he’ll be there?”

“No doubt he knows the attack was on Pearl Bay, so he’ll know that I’ll be looking for the bastard too.” Donghyuck grips the wheel, making a command to the others to hoist anchor. “I’d rather have the inevitable confrontation on my turf rather than his.”

“But how do you know he’s going to Tortuga?” Jeno presses, stepping in front of Donghyuck so he was in his line of sight.

“Because he told me.” Donghyuck gives the most vague answer possible, hoping that Jeno would drop the subject, but to no such luck. Jeno never gave up that easily, and Donghyuck should have known better.

“When the hell did he tell you _that_?” Jeno’s eyebrows just about shoot off of his forehead.

“Six years ago in a bar in London.” Donghyuck keeps as straight of a face as possible, letting Jeno search his features for any sort of lie.

“I honestly have no idea whether to believe you or not,” The older sighs, giving up at last and stepping back to let Donghyuck take full command of the helm. The captain glances over his shoulder at Jeno, a mischievous gleam dancing in his blue eyes.

“That’s the point, Jen.” He turns to face the rest of his small crew that have gathered at the main mast, looking up to Donghyuck. “Go hoist the sails, you scallywags! We have an admiral to meet and a pirate to catch!”

A chorus of “Aye, captain!” meets Donghyuck’s ears as everyone hurries to get to work. There is a swell of pride on Donghyuck’s chest as he watches them work; the five person crew that he trained himself working seamlessly and efficiently on the deck below.

Donghyuck lets a small smile grace his lips as he pulls out his compass, the one bequeathed to him by the dying hand of his last captain, and lets the dial spin until it settles upon a northeasterly direction: the direction in which Tortuga lies.

With the setting sun on his face and the gentle wind in his hair, Donghyuck tries not to focus on his heart squeezing just a little harder than necessary at the thought of seeing Mark again.


	2. Mark's Guide of How to Not Punch the King of England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perspective switch!!

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**London, England**

* * *

 

Mark doesn’t sleep much anymore. Granted, he had never slept very well in the first place, but after spending more time on ships where he needs to be able to be up on his feet in a matter of seconds, sleep rarely comes to him anymore.

Coming back from long journeys is the worst, and after Mark’s latest eight month trip abroad to reclaim some of the King’s assets in the Caribbean, a trip that had begun with as much bloodshed as it had ended with, he finds himself much less sleepless than he expects.

Mark struggles to keep his eyes open through his appointment at the barbershop that evening, the appointment had been made so he could look presentable when he debriefs the King on the success of the trip the next day, given that he hadn’t had a haircut in the better part of a year.

He considers it somewhat of a blessing when he falls into a slumber the moment his head hits the pillow when he gets home that night, his crew assuring him that they would all see him at the meeting tomorrow, and that him getting some rest is much more important than him falling asleep while trying to help.

Unfortunately, the sleep doesn’t last long. It can’t have been more than a handful of hours before there’s a hand on Mark’s shoulder, shaking him awake.

“Admiral, you’ve got to get up.” It’s only at the sound of Yukhei’s voice does Mark finally sit up, rubbing his eyes with his fists as he tries to get the world into focus.

“Yukhei? What’re you doing in my house?” Mark grumbles out, suppressing the want to just pull the covers back over his head and sleep.

“Mark, we have to _go,_ ” Yukhei urges, pulling the covers off of Mark. It takes Mark’s sluggish mind a moment to process the words.

“Go where?” Mark slides his feet off the bed so his toes are just touching the floor. He knows his hair is a mess and his dark circles are even worse, but if his second-in-command found it necessary to break into Mark’s house in the middle of the night with a panicked tone telling Mark they had to go somewhere, it’s probably important.

“The King has requested to see you. Now.”

Exactly. _Important._

Mark scrambles out of bed to pull on clothes that would be considered even half-decent enough to be in the King’s presence with. He tugs on a shirt, haphazardly tucking it into his pants, not sparing a moment to worry about wrinkles as he whisks himself around the room in a hurry, getting dressed.

“Do you know why?” Mark pants out as he slides on a boot. Yukhei shakes his head, shrugging as he hands Mark the other one.

“All I know is that I got a messenger sent from the King telling me to collect you because there’s, and I quote, ‘a situation that needs his Royal Highness’s Admiral’s immediate presence with the King’,” Yukhei recites as Mark gives up halfway through lacing up his second boot.

“What in _hell_ ,” Mark mumbles as he grabs his uniform jacket hanging in his wardrobe, managing to stick one arm through a sleeve before rushing out the door of his bedroom, Yukhei hot on his heels, “could be so important that the King has to wake me up before the crack of dawn less than twelve hours after I’ve just gotten back from a trip that he _knows about_?”

Yukhei pauses behind Mark on the staircase, making Mark stop and turn around to see what happened. Yukhei just gives Mark a look, and it isn’t one that Mark particularly likes.

“What if it’s Haechan again?” Yukhei asks, his voice quiet. Mark feels his entire body freeze up for a moment before his logical thinking kicks back in. He scoffs, turning on his heel to make his way down the rest of the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“As much as that… _pirate_ is reckless and has a flair for the dramatics, there’s nothing that he would do to warrant this kind of concern from the King himself,” Mark nearly spits out the word referring to Haechan as he busies himself with grabbing his sword from where he left it by the main door, securing the belt to the sheath around his waist.

“Are you sure?” Yukhei leads the way out the front door to where two horses are standing—one a majestic bronze stallion that is Yukhei’s, and the other a magnificent snow-white mare that is Mark’s pride and joy. Yukhei must have picked up Mark’s horse from the royal stables when he rode his own down to come get Mark since he lives so close to the palace, at least in comparison to Mark.

Mark lets himself be minutely bothered for a moment that he knows so much about Haechan as he strokes the muzzle of his mare, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on the feeling for too long.

“I’m quite sure, Yukhei,” Mark says sharply, swinging himself onto the horse with ease. “I’m sure our last meeting gave him enough of a permanent reminder not to mess with the British Empire again.” Mark runs his fingers over the gilded hilt of his sword as Yukhei hoists himself up onto his stallion.

“Are you ready?” Yukhei asks, but Mark is already trotting out onto the street as he puts his other arm through his left coat sleeve.

“The King is not always the most patient man,” Mark merely calls over his shoulder before nudging his mare into a gallop, rushing down the moonlit cobblestone road that led to the palace.

Mark hopes that the King would forgive his appearance for it being the middle of the night and him having no warning of his summoning, but Mark knows from personal experience, the King’s tolerance for the smallest things can turn on a dime.

Not ten minutes after leaving Mark’s home, the mare slowed to a halt in front of the grand doors with Yukhei’s stallion not far behind, both of the riders breathing almost as hard as their horses.

“Are you worried about how this is going to go?” Yukhei slips off of his stallion, directing one of the night-shift guards at the doors to tie up the horses while they went to have a meeting with the King. Mark glances up at the grandeur of the palace, trying to push the dark thoughts out of his head as he takes the moment to lace up his other boot.

“I’d like to say no, but that would be a lie,” Mark tells Yukhei honestly, making Yukhei smile.

“It’s good to know that Mark Lee still feels fear like us mere mortals sometimes,” He jokes. Mark shoves his shoulder, but it brings a smile to his face as they enter the doors. There are a couple of guards who lead them through a labyrinth of hallways and passages until they come across a small, nondescript door at the end of a hallway.

“The King awaits your presence eagerly,” the taller of the two guards states before they bow and leave back the way they had come.

“Let’s hope we can find our way out of here when this is done,” Yukhei muses and Mark snorts, but they both compose themselves as Mark knocks on the door thrice, the sounds echoing down the empty corridor.

“Come in,” a tired yet clear voice rings out from within.

Mark spares one last glance at Yukhei before turning the handle and pushing the door open, a thought skittering through the back of his mind that his hair probably looks like a disaster. Mark’s only saving grace is that Yukhei’s probably isn’t much better, judging by the looks of it.

“Admiral Lee. Commodore Wong.” The King is standing over a table, covered with papers and maps and documents of all kinds. “I’m pleased that you could make your way here tonight, and I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting’s nature.”

The regal tone that the King takes with them makes Mark want to grind his teeth together in irritation. Mark has never been particularly partial to the King, but he harbors a great respect for the man, so he does his best to focus on that as he steps into the room.

The King looks exhausted and displeased, both expressions that he isn’t often seen wearing, yet he musters up a smile when he sees his most trusted men in the Royal Navy enter the room, albeit looking a bit shabby, but they’re still here.

“It was no real trouble at all, Your Highness. What is this situation that requires my attention?” Mark hates knowing that there are still people ranked higher than him and hates referring to them as such, which is why he worked his ass off for the past twelve years to get him to where he is today. He still sucks it up when it comes to the King, though, because the repercussions would be worse for not using his preferred title.

“There’s been an attack on one of our territories in the Caribbean. According to reports, half of the island has been burned down and resources are damaged.” The King looks back down at his maps, tracing his fingers along shapes of islands on the parchment.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, but why does this require _my_ attention?” Mark is doing his best to keep his voice steady. Yukhei steps up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him calm, fully aware of Mark’s distaste for the King.

As Mark’s best friend since age eleven when they had met in their first year in naval school, Yukhei is Mark’s sole confidant and the one person in the world who knows almost every single one of Mark’s secrets and opinions on things, as well as the one person who can keep Mark sane when it comes to situations like these. Their friendship works the other way around as well, it was just much more common that Yukhei needs to keep Mark grounded rather than vice versa.

“Because, rumor has it that a pirate is behind this.” The King looks up at Mark, his dark eyes boring straight into Mark’s. Yukhei sucks in an audible breath, his grip on Mark’s shoulder tightening. “And you’re the only person I trust to deal with this situation.”

“Do we know anything about this pirate?” Yukhei asks, but it’s clear that he and Mark are thinking the same thing: _is it Haechan?_

“I’m afraid we know nothing but his name, and it’s not one I’ve ever heard before.” The King pulls out a letter from underneath a pile of other papers and reads it aloud. “It is of my understanding that the captain’s name is Taeyong, or at least that is what many of these other fishermen are saying. They’re also saying that he’s searching for something, but none of the men will indulge anymore of my questions.”

The King places the letter back down and looks back at Mark and Yukhei, who have made their way to the side of the table opposite him.

“That letter was from one of my merchant correspondents in the Bahamas, and his letter, along with three other ones of very similar content, told me about this pirate captain, Taeyong, who burned down half of Pearl Bay in his frantic search for a lost item of some sort, which according to the men, possesses magical properties.”

“Is that all we know?” Mark speaks finally, the silence had dragged on for just a beat too long. The King nods, folding the letter back up and placing it in an envelope already stuffed with papers that he pushes across the table to Mark.

“These are all of the letters I received. It might be possible that you can glean some more information out of them that I am unable to see.” He softens his tone for a moment, and it's the first time that Mark has ever heard the King get even this close to admitting a fault or a mistake, but he elects to gloss it over in favor of the matter at hand.

“So what would the goal of the mission be?” Mark asks, taking the envelope and pushing it into the pocket on the inside of his jacket just in front of his heart.

“To assess the damage on our assets in Pearl Bay, and put a stop to Taeyong’s rampage.”

“Rampage?” Yukhei pipes up. “He’s only hit one island, though.” The King gives them a tired smile.

“Until a pirate finds what he is searching for, there’s no telling what lengths he will go to in order to find it.” The King straightens a pile of papers. “Something tells me that this man won’t hesitate to burn down Europe if that’s what it takes to find what he wants.”

“You don’t really believe that the item could be magic though, right?” Yukhei taps his fingers on the table as he speaks, a habit he picked up from a childhood friend of his for when he’s thinking too hard, and never got rid of.

“We have no way of knowing that, now do we, Commodore?” The King smiles, but there is no warmth to it, just bitter soullessness. Mark is a little wary of the King’s state at this point, so he speaks up again.

“I know that I’m the one you want to lead this mission, but I just got back from an eight month journey at sea. My crew has families and duties that I need to respect as both their captain their Admiral,” Mark points out. “As much as I am ready to go right now, I can’t let myself do that to my crew, and I will not work unless it is with them.”

Surprisingly, it isn’t the King who answers Mark this time; it is Yukhei.

“Admiral, the crew will stick with you. They are loyal to whatever you choose to do here, and will follow your orders without hesitation or complaint.” Yukhei assures Mark. “They won’t let any one of us go out on our own. Not after what happened to Hansol.”

Mark winces when Hansol’s name is mentioned, flinching away from Yukhei’s touch as he recalls the fate of their crewmate.

“You will all be put on rest as soon as you come back, and may stay on leave for as long as you wish when you come back from this voyage,” the King promises, and as much as it may seem sincere to Yukhei’s ears, it is empty to Mark’s.

The King knows that Mark can’t stay away from the ocean for more than a month even if he wants to. Mark is a workaholic in all senses of the word, simply unable to stay away from the job he loves and the sea he adores for too long. It is the sincerity that Mark can spot in the King’s eyes that lets him know that the promise isn’t meant to be as empty as it is.

“I agree to the terms, Your Highness.” Mark responds after a moment of thought. “When should we expect to depart?”

“ _The_ _Empress_ is being prepared for departure as we speak, and if at all possible, daybreak departure would be ideal,” The King states, a genuine smile flickering across his lips once before disappearing as if it was never there. Mark nods, turning to Yukhei.

“Go collect the crew, have them say their goodbyes and have them finish whatever else they need to. We leave at dawn,” Mark orders. Yukhei opens his mouth as if he is about to argue for a moment, most likely about leaving Mark in a room alone with the King, but the look Mark gives him has Yukhei bowing quickly, and exiting before Mark can let out the breath he doesn’t even know he had been holding.

“I heard about the casualty your crew suffered on the past trip, and you have my condolences.” The King inclines his head ever so slightly when Mark turns back to face him. “We can host a burial service back here when you return, if you wish.”

“We gave him a funeral at sea and laid him to rest there. It’s what Hansol would have wanted.” Mark squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists as he takes a deep breath. “I suppose it was to be expected with the type of people we were dealing with, but the sentiment is appreciated.”

Mark turns to leave, but the King’s sharp voice calling his name makes him stop.

“Mark.” The King uses his name and not his title, making Mark dig his nails into his palms. “Ji Hansol was one of your best men, and you suffered a great loss in more than one way with his passing. If you ever need a replacement of any sort—”

“With all due respect again, Your Highness, no one can replace Hansol,” Mark cuts him off before he can continue, not able to bear hearing about how one of his mentors and closest friends was replaceable in the eyes of the King. Hansol had passed most of his knowledge and expertise down to Mark and Yukhei over the years they sailed together on the same crews, but there was still so much invaluable information lost when Hansol died.

The King raises an eyebrow at the notion of Mark having the gall to interrupt him, but continues to speak as if he hasn’t stopped.

“Backtracking to the topic of pirates, are you familiar with a Captain Haechan by any chance?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mark grimaces.

“Any inkling if he’s been disturbing anything else as of late, or do you know anything concerning his current whereabouts?” The King asks, finally sitting down on the chair behind him. Mark shakes his head.

“I haven’t run into the _Helios_ in the better part of a year, but I left its captain with a reminder not to mess with the British Empire ever again.” Mark nearly recites the line he gave to Yukhei earlier about the same topic. The difference, though, is that the King’s interest is much more piqued by the phrasing than Yukhei’s was.

“And what do you mean by that?” The King leans forward, steepling his angular face in his pale hands.

“I simply left a physical reminder that the captain should watch his back.” Mark doesn’t specifically say what happened, but his hand gravitating towards the hilt of his sword gives enough clear signals to the King as to what transpired.

“Is there any particular reason why you’re avoiding saying his name?” He asks, and Mark curses the fact that nothing ever slips past the King’s observance.

“Some rough personal history.” Mark’s nose twitches up into a scrunch before he relaxes again. “The less I have to think about him, the better.”

The King hums, his eyes flicking across the map on the table between them, scanning the little drawings of islands.

“Your Highness,” Mark speaks again, alerting his attention. “If I may ask, was Pearl Bay the only island attacked, or were there more?”

“As far as we know now, Pearl Bay was the only one.” The King answers as he taps his finger over the little island on the map that represents Pearl Bay. “Why do you ask?”

Mark debates internally for a moment whether or not to answer truthfully, but resolves to just tell the King what he knows in case it’s of any importance to him.

“He grew up there,” Marks explains, but the King’s raised eyebrow tells him that elaboration is necessary. “Haechan, that is. He lived in the orphanage on Pearl Bay for roughly the first ten years of his life before he boarded _The Eve_ and became a pirate. I’m assuming that he will have heard about this by the time we get there, and I’m just preparing myself to cross paths with him.”

“How do you know all of this about Captain Haechan if you claim to dislike him so severely?” There’s a hint of amusement in the King’s voice that sets Mark on edge, but he just takes another deep breath before he responds.

“We crossed paths once when we were much younger, and have grown a mutual dislike for each other ever since the end of that confrontation.” Mark keeps his answer as vague as possible while trying to satisfy what the King wishes to know.

It is clear, however, that the King knows just as well as Mark that there is more to the story of their meeting than what Mark revealed, but he doesn’t press the subject, instead letting the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he meets Mark’s gaze once again.

“I thought you said you didn’t like to think about him.”

Mark has never wanted to punch the King of England more than he does now.

“It might be vital information, so I thought that it would be valuable to remember,” Mark shoots back before realizing his completely inappropriate and informal tone. “Apologies, Your Highness.” The King just waves him off.

“It’s quite alright. It’s reassuring to know you still have that sharp tongue.” The King glances out the window, and Mark follows suit to see the slowly lightening horizon. “Dawn will be breaking soon. It’s best that you get going.”

Mark nods bowing slightly before walking out of the room, but just as he reaches the doorframe, the King calls him back once more.

“Mark, I have one more order for you,” He says, and Mark turns around in his place. “I want you to work with Captain Haechan towards your common goal. Do not provoke him, but do not join him. Find a middle ground where, if it happens to work out in such a manner, you and the captain can work on parallel courses to stop Taeyong. We have no real grasp of the power he holds, and the more friends you make rather than enemies will only benefit you here.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Mark doesn’t like the terms, but he can’t disobey a direct order.

“I need you to give me your word that you will make every effort possible to work _with_ Captain Haechan, Mark.” The King’s voice drips of severity. “Your _word_ , Admiral.”

“I give you my word, f—” Mark begins but the look on the King’s face forces him to correct himself. “My King.” Mark bows his way out of the room, closing the door behind him. Even in private, that type of informality will never be tolerated between the two of them.

Mark manages to find his way back out of the palace with minimal trouble, only making a wrong turn once to end up in the kitchens where he stole two pastries, one for him and one for Yukhei, with a wink thrown at the cook. The cook just shakes his head at Mark’s behavior, but deliberately turns a blind eye when Mark swipes a third before scampering out of the kitchen and back outside to the cool London air.

With one pastry between his teeth and the other two rolled up in a cloth and tucked in his outer pocket, Mark hops back up onto his mare, spurring her into a gallop and directing her down to the port where _The_ _Empress_ was being prepared for sendoff.

He makes his way through the winding streets just as the first yellows and golds of the sun begin to peek over the horizon, the stars growing pale as the rays stretch out across the sky. There’s something about this scene that’s eerily familiar, but Mark can’t quite place it.

Mark doesn’t realize why this all seems so familiar until he pulls his mare to a stop at the docks, and swears he sees someone climbing the rigging of a ship with sun-bleached red hair, piercing blue eyes, and that damned smile with the backdrop of the rising sun. He blinks, and the vision is gone.

He shakes himself out of his stupor as he hears hoofs on the cobblestones behind him, realizing that Yukhei must have already made it to everyone.

“Are you really ready to leave again?” Yukhei asks, trotting up beside Mark before stopping his stallion next to him. He must have seen the forlorn expression on Mark’s face because Yukhei puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

“Just remembering how much Hansol used to help with preparations like this.” Mark sighs, leaning into his best friend’s touch. “Can you oversee the preparations of the ship? I have some things to go collect from my home.”

“Got anything as payment?” Yukhei teases, evidently not expecting Mark to hand him over two cloth-wrapped and now slightly squashed pastries from the palace kitchens if the widening of his eyes was any sign. “Go get your things, Mark. I’ll see you back here soon with the rest of the crew.”

Mark nods, patting Yukhei on the back before he takes the reins back in his hands to ride off back home for the last time in god-knows-how-long, but not even the brisk morning wind at his back as he rides away from the rising sun can take the thoughts of a specific pirate captain off of his mind.

Not even when Mark places his hand on the handle on his front door can he calm his racing thoughts or his frantic heartbeat. All Mark can do is take deep breaths and think of what he has to collect for the journey in hopes of chasing the other thoughts away as he turns the handle and heads inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think so far?  
> there's something super exciting planned for next chapter that explains the animosity between mark and hyuck...!!  
> i can't wait to show you!!!


	3. Cinderella... But It's a Bar in London and Way Past Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh,,, remember when i said i was taking liberties with the geography??  
> yeah this is what i meant  
> (london is definitely not on the coast in real life but we're just gonna roll with it bc,,, creative authority!!!)  
> also!!! time period switch!!!  
> tw: underage drinking,,, a lot of it

**SIX YEARS AGO - Mark Lee**

**Simon’s Bar in London, England**

* * *

 

The door swung open in front of Mark, his hand retreating from the handle quickly as he stepped inside Simon’s bar. He tried to take deep breaths to calm the adrenaline pumping through his body, only to find it severely unhelpful. It was the first time he had gone drinking without Yukhei and it gave him a rush, filling him with nervous excitement.

Simon’s was a small bar on the outskirts of London, not too far from either the barracks or the port, and it had some of the best beer in all of Europe according to everyone he’d spoken to. That was good, because Mark completely planned on drinking his worries of an upcoming exam instead of studying for once. Yukhei had decided a change of pace was needed because of Mark’s tendency to overwork himself, but Mark was also reasonably sure that going to a bar wasn’t what Yukhei had in mind when he mentioned it.

Then again, Mark knew he wasn’t brave enough to get completely hammered all alone, so all he planned on doing was ordering a couple of beers to drink before heading back to the barracks to get a good night’s sleep for once since his exam wasn’t until the afternoon. No more, no less.

“Hey, Simon,” Mark greeted, sidling up to the bar as the familiar bartender walked over, “just a beer please.”

“No Yukhei tonight?” Simon asked and Mark just shook his head.

“No he’s probably already asleep.”

“Funny,” Simon snorted. “That’s the same thing he usually tells me when you’re not here.” He slid the mug across the counter before walking away to tend to another customer, leaving Mark with no chance to reply.

Mark let out a disgruntled noise of displeasure at the direct callout from Simon as he took a swig of beer. The stuff was good for being in such a low-profile bar, but it wasn’t as if Mark was complaining at the way the malted amber liquid slipped down his throat.

It still felt a bit unnatural, drinking without Yukhei or any of his comrades, so Mark took a moment to scan the people in the bar when he next brought the mug up to his lips. It wasn’t a work night so, unsurprisingly, it was more crowded than usual. There was a distinct lack of young people in the bar that night, though. Most of the population consisted of middle-aged men yelling about whatever drinking game they happened to be playing, and were probably losing copious amounts of money in.

Mark’s eyes silently took in everyone that was there, committing their faces to memory—a habit he picked up after his mother died.

His eyes paused on the one person in the bar that looked out of place. It was a boy, and he sat in the back corner of the bar at a table that was gently nestled between two crooked wooden walls, playing with a piece of string as the lantern that hung not too far above his head cast a warm glow upon him.

The boy was absentmindedly tying and untying ridiculously complex knots that Mark barely had time to comprehend before they disappeared and a new one took its place, but the boy wasn’t even looking at his fingers as he deftly tied and untied the rope. He was staring out the window, looking at the horizon where the sun would be rising in not too long of a time, the beer mug in front of him empty and by the looks of it, untouched for quite some time.

To be perfectly frank, the boy was gorgeous. He had light hair, tan skin, and the brightest blue eyes Mark had ever seen. He had never seen the boy around before, meaning that he must have been from out of town, but by the looks of the boy’s golden skin in comparison to Mark’s pale complexion, he may very well have been from the Caribbean somewhere.

Mark took another sip of his beer, mentally going through all of the Caribbean islands he could think of, but he didn’t get so far as to think of the Bahamas before the boy tore his eyes away from the window he had been staring out of, and looked directly at Mark.

There was a moment where they both mirrored each other’s expressions: wide eyes, slightly open mouth, complete surprise. The boy recovered a split second faster than Mark though, letting a small smile curl its way onto his cherry red lips as he beckoned Mark over with the crook of his finger.

Mark tried his best to not choke on his beer from the boy’s piercing gaze, but nimbly made his way over to the boy’s table despite his better judgement of not staying for too long. It came as a mild surprise when Mark managed not to trip over anything on his way to the table.

“I think you’re cute and I want to get to know you better,” the boy said, nearly making Mark fall over. He was so abrupt and up front about saying it that it made Mark a little bit dizzy.

“Me too.” Mark didn’t slur his words; he hadn’t consumed nearly enough alcohol for that yet, he just stumbled over them a little bit in his haste to agree. The boy gives him a bright smile and gestures for Mark to take the seat across from him.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” He leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his chin in his palms. Mark sat down in the chair across the table and put his half-empty beer mug down in front of him so the liquid didn’t slosh with his shaking hands.

“Mark.” He was decently surprised that his voice didn’t squeak at all and was silently pleased with himself.

“Okay, Mark.” The boy spoke his name slowly, drawing out the anticipation of what he was going to say next. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” Mark laughed, spreading his hands out. The boy tilted his head slightly, considering his next words.

“Something that no one else knows.” The boy’s blue eyes sparkled in the flickering light of the burning kerosene and Mark had never been more compelled to tell anyone his life story before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

“I love the ocean. Sailing on it gives me a sense of freedom that nothing else does, and it lets me feel like I’m not tied down anywhere.” Mark had never even told Yukhei why he has started Naval school, feeding him a little half-lie about his parents wanting him to do it. “That’s why want to be a sailor.”

“I feel the same way.” The boy nodded, smiling. There was silence for a moment before Mark realized the boy was looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to ask a question of his own. Mark opened his mouth to ask a question, most likely something stupid because he hadn’t thought it out, when he realized he didn’t know what the boy’s name was yet.

“What’s _your_ name?”

The boy looked surprised for a moment, almost as if he hadn’t expected Mark to ask him what his name was, but recovered in a split second with an easy grin.

“Haechan.”

“Haechan,” Mark tried out the name, letting it roll off of his tongue in a very satisfying manner and had a sudden urge to say it more often. “Where are you from?” He clearly wasn’t from London with that beautiful skin, but Mark wasn’t nearly drunk enough to tell Haechan that to his face.

“I grew up on a small island in the Caribbean named Pearl Bay.” Haechan’s voice was wistful, and Mark assumed that he probably hadn’t been back there in quite some time. Mark made a mental note of the name, though, determined to remember it when he got back to his room later and could look it up in one of the atlases that he had lying around that Yukhei always teased him about.

“I grew up an orphan, but I sail around with my ten best friends now and they’re the closest thing to family that I’ve got.” Haechan spoke of them with such love that Mark couldn’t help but feel a little twist in his gut, wishing he had the same thing.

“Well when I become a sailor, I’ll make sure to visit Pearl Bay and find you there,” Mark promised, and he swore that Haechan glowed a little bit brighter.

“No, don’t go to Pearl Bay to find me. Go to Tortuga.” Haechan drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s an island in the Caribbean that’s wild and fun, and I go there every chance I get.”

“Well I’ll find you at Tortuga when I become a sailor.” Mark filed away the name of the island in the back of his mind so he could look that one up, too, when he got back to the barracks.

There was a lull in the conversation, but there wasn’t anything uncomfortable about the silence. The bickering of the other customers in the background along with Haechan’s rhythmic drumming on the table was enough to keep Mark’s ears from drowning in any sort of silence for too long.

“Mark?” Haechan asked, Mark’s brown eyes snapping up to meet his blue ones. “How much do you know about drinking games?”

“Not much,” he admitted, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “My friend is the one who participates and I’m the one sitting off to the side making sure he gets home okay.”

“Quite the friend you have there.” Haechan raised an eyebrow, making Mark laugh and shake his head.

“He’s a really great guy, I swear. He just, well, parties a little too hard sometimes.” Mark smiled a little bit, taking another sip of his beer.

“Do you want to play, though?” Haechan asked again, taking a swig out of his own mug for the first time that Mark had seen all night.

“What are we going to play?” Mark leaned back in his chair, curious. Haechan just grinned and fished a handful of dice out of the pocket of his worn jacket, placing them on the table between them. There were four of them, and none of them were traditional. Two of them looked to be seven-sided and the other two had six faces.

“Ever heard of Liar’s Dice?”

Mark almost fell out of his seat with a gasp.

“The _pirate_ game?”

Haechan snorted and rolled his eyes.

“The game that we’re going to play is a loose variation on the game that the infamous crew of _The Flying Dutchman_ used to play.” Haechan reached over to pat Mark’s cheek. “You’re not going to lose your soul tonight, cutie, only your sobriety.”

Mark wanted to take offence at Haechan’s words, but he was a little caught up in Haechan’s thumb brushing gently over his cheekbones before retracting back into his lap.

“What makes you think that I’m the one who is going to be drunk at the end of this?” Mark was serious when he posed the question, but Haechan just tipped his head back and laughed, loud and clear.

It was right then that Mark decided he wanted to hear it more often.

“I’ve been playing this game for years. No beginner’s luck can outmatch my experience.”

Haechan was a little too confident for Mark’s taste, but unfortunately, the cockiness didn’t make the boy any less attractive. Mark struggled to keep his composure as he matched gazes with Haechan, using every ounce of his willpower to not look away from the blazing blue eyes.

“So what are we betting then?” He questioned, and Haechan tilted his head to the side in thought before he answered.

“Get a tray of six shots, and we’ll play six rounds. The loser of each round takes a shot.” Haechan suggested, and Mark nodded, standing up right away to go get the alcohol from Simon. “Ask the bartender for the clear stuff on the top shelf.” He added before Mark was out of earshot.

Mark weaved his way through the bar that had gotten noticeably more crowded from the time he had entered. He got dangerously close to tripping no less than three times on his way up to the bar, but managed to make it to the counter and flag down Simon without starting any fights just because he bumped into someone.

“Mark? Still here?” Simon teased, wiping out the inside of a mug as Mark pulled a face. “What can I get for you?”

“Six shots of, uh, the clear stuff on the top shelf?” Mark realized belatedly that Simon might not have been tipped off that Mark didn’t know what he was doing if he had said it like a statement and not a question.

“That’s some pretty strong stuff, Mark.” Simon looked worried, his brows pinched together. “Are you sure that you can handle six shots of it?”

“I’m sure I can’t.” Mark shrugged. “But they’re for a drinking game with someone.”

Simon gave Mark a look over his shoulder as he reached for a clear bottle beside one of the beer kegs on the wall.

“The boy in the corner? Finally got yourself a date, huh?” He pulled out little metal cups no bigger than the size of his palm to pour the drink into. Mark had never done shots before, he’d only ever see Yukhei do them, so the little goblets scared him just a bit more than he would have liked to admit.

“It’s not a date, Simon,” Mark whined as the bartender chuckled, arranging the shots on a tray for Mark to bring back.

“Sure it isn’t,” Simon laughed. “Now take the shots, they’re on the house if they help you keep good company this evening.” He wiggled his eyebrows and poked Mark’s shoulder.

“Simon, _no_! This is not about me getting laid!” Mark whacked the bartender right back, but without much force because he actually really liked the man. Simon merely raised his hands in defense, backing away to go tend to another customer trying to wave him down.

“I never said anything about you getting laid, now did I?” With those words, Simon left Mark a spluttering and blushing mess, making the boy regret about fifty percent of his life choices until he remembered that he still needed to bring the drinks back to the table where Haechan was sitting.

Mark wormed his way back through the ever-growing crowd of people. He miraculously managed not to spill any of the cups on the way, only sloshing a couple of drops over the lips of some of the shots. Successfully making it back to Haechan, he counted that as his biggest victory of the day.

“So,” Mark said, placing the tray down on the side of the table, noting that Haechan’s previously half-filled beer mug was now sitting empty and sideways next to the dice. “How do I play?”

“It’s simple.” Haechan grabbed up one of each kinds of dice, placing them in front of Mark. “We both roll, and with only looking at your own dice, you make a bet on how much all of the dice add up to. The person who is the furthest from the actual total, or if they go over, they have to take a shot.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Mark shrugged, scooping up the dice in front of them and shaking them between his cupped palms.

“You don’t roll the dice with your hands, cutie.” Haechan reached over, prying Mark’s hands open and placing the dice back in the table. “It’s too easy to cheat if you do that. Roll them in your mug.”

“It still has beer in it, though,” Mark feebly pointed out, making Haechan snicker.

“Then drink it so we can play.” He replied, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“You just want me to chug the rest of this?” Mark was incredulous, eyeing his half-full beer mug with a degree of skepticism.

“Here, I’ll give you an advantage then,” Haechan snatched the mug from Mark’s hands and drank the remnant of the contents before placing it upside down on the table with a face-splitting grin. “Let’s begin.”

They both roll their dice in their mugs before slamming them down on the table so the dice were trapped underneath. Mark liked his chances at winning the game, at least judging by what Haechan told him and the fact that he had obtained a formal education through the best school in the country.

Mark peeked under his mug to see a four and a five showing face-up on the two dice respectively, so at bare minimum, the total of all four would be eleven, but that was also under the assumption that Haechan rolled a pair of ones, which was a one-in-forty-two chance.

He eyed the little cups of alcohol in the middle of the table with some skepticism, and decided quickly that he’d rather bet lower than too high and automatically have to take a shot.

“Fourteen.” Mark wasn’t nearly as confident in his answer as he had hoped he would be, but this was also the first time he had ever played this game, and by the growing smile on Haechan’s face, he had even less confidence.

“Ten,” Haechan grinned back at Mark, and as the boy raised his mug to reveal a pair of one’s, Mark’s hopes of winning that round were consequently shattered. Mark frowned, taking the mug off of his dice to show Haechan, who let out an excited little cheer.

“I have to take a shot then?” Mark’s eyebrows drew together at the prospect of having to down a few ounces of a mysterious liquid, but at the nod of encouragement from the pretty boy in front of him, Mark swiped the nearest shot from the tray and downed it with no further delay.

“Impressive,” Haechan giggled—a sound of which was music to Mark’s slightly inebriated self. “If I didn’t know any better I wouldn’t think you’re new to shots.”

Mark held back a grimace as the alcohol burned down his throat, yet the sensation wasn’t completely unpleasant, leaving a comfortable warmth in its wake.

“Who says I am new?” Mark challenged, slamming the small container upside down on the table. Haechan just rolled his eyes at Mark’s display, scooping his own dice back into his mug.

“Me,” he sounded unamused, but the smile on his face told Mark a different story. “Now are you ready for the next round?”

As they continued to play, Mark continued to find out that he was pretty terrible at the game. He ended up taking four of the five remaining shots after the first round, and was reasonably sure that Haechan took the last one out of pity.

“How did you win so much?” Mark pouted as Haechan tipped back his shot.

“You just need more practice.” Haechan grimaced as the alcohol burned down his throat. “Then you’ll be as good as me.” Mark’s mind wanted to call out, saying that this was mostly a game of luck and there was minimal skill involved, but instead he just giggled out a different response.

“If we play again, I am sure that will beat the grandmaster,” he mock proclaimed, trying to find his way through his alcohol-clouded mind to reasonable thought. It was a good thing that Haechan was thinking clearly enough for the both of them as he shook his head with a touch of laughter at Mark’s actions.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight, Mark.”

If Mark was being honest and thinking in his right mind, he would vehemently agree, but in that moment, the only thing that his mind could seem to take in was Haechan himself.

How the warm light of the kerosene lamps made Haechan’s skin seemed to glow, how Mark found himself getting lost in those bright blue eyes more often than not, and how he just couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the boy in front of him at all.

“Your eyes,” Mark leaned forward, nearly putting his elbow on one of the dice as he rested his chin on his hands. “Look like the ocean on a summer day. They sparkle like the waves and have a depth that no one has explored.”

Mark didn’t know he spoke like a half-decent poet when he was drunk, but he supposed he learned something new every day. Haechan looked mildly surprised at Mark’s words, but quirked an eyebrow to let Mark know he was more than welcome to continue.

Mark thought that the little moles and sun-induced freckles across Haechan’s face and neck looked like the constellations he studied in school, but he had never seen stars that beautiful up that close, and he voiced all of those thoughts aloud to Haechan, who earned a dusting of light pink on his cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” Mark told Haechan, doing nothing to lessen the growing blush on the other’s face.

To be perfectly honest, Mark had no idea where all of that confidence was coming from, but he decided to wholeheartedly blame the alcohol as he reached across the table to cup Haechan’s face. Mark felt Haechan lean into his touch as he gently thumbed across Haechan’s lips, but there was a disturbance behind them that had Haechan pulling away to peek over Mark’s shoulder.

The door to Simon’s banged open, followed by some shouting. Under normal circumstances, Mark wouldn’t have been too concerned because he knew how common bar fights were, but it was the fact that Haechan’s eyes widened just a little too much for whatever fight was happening behind him to have been ordinary.

Mark only got as far as thinking about turning around in his seat to see what was happening before he suddenly felt two hands on his cheeks and soft lips on his own. It took Mark a split second to react to the fact that Haechan had half-lunged across the table and was now kissing him with one knee up on the surface of the table and the other planted firmly in front of Haechan’s own chair.

When Mark’s mind got around to processing the information, he responded with eagerness, closing his eyes and pulling Haechan closer with one hand on his nape while the other gently wrapped around Haechan’s waist under his coat. Mark didn’t pay attention to anything else, just the feeling of Haechan’s soft lips on his, until they were gone just as quickly as they had come.

Mark blinked his eyes back open to see Haechan sliding his knee off of the table and pocketing the dice that they had left on the center of the table before Haechan grabbed Mark’s wrist, tugging him out of his seat and through the crowd of people.

He couldn’t see exactly what was happening because of the sheer amount of bodies in the bar by that time, so he just let himself be dragged by Haechan through the throng and out the back door that led into the little alleyway between Simon’s Bar and Rucker’s Candy Shoppe.

“Why did we leave?” Mark panted out, trying to catch his breath.

“There was a fight starting and I didn’t want to end up being caught in the middle of it.” Haechan let out; he was just as breathless as Mark. It took Mark a mere second to accept that as a valid answer before Haechan had Mark backed up against the cool brick wall of Simon’s.

Haechan just stood there for a moment, his body pressed up against Mark’s as his eyes searched his face.

“Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to kiss me again?” Mark decided that it was most _definitely_ the alcohol that were making those uncharacteristically confident words slip from his tongue, but Haechan simply scoffed before diving in to capture Mark’s lips.

Mark cupped Haechan’s face with his hands, stroking the soft, sun-kissed skin of his cheeks under the pads of his fingertips in nonsensical curlycue designs. Haechan mirrored the action, taking Mark’s face between the palms of his hands, but Mark pulled back.

“Your hands are rough,” Mark giggled, seeing the confusion on Haechan’s face melt into fond annoyance. Mark took Haechan’s hands in his own, caressing the calluses on the flats of his palms, pressing kisses over them as he went. Haechan threaded their fingers together when Mark moved his lips away and takes the opportunity to plant light kisses over the soft backs of Mark’s hands.

“You’ll lose your soft hands when you become a sailor,” Haechan murmured over Mark’s knuckles. “Your very own sailor hands.” He then pushed their clasped hands back against the wall on either side of Mark’s head, letting his face getting really close, but making sure his lips didn’t quite brush Mark’s.

Mark giggled again, surging forward to meet those teasing, cherry-colored lips once more. Haechan sighed prettily, letting his body melt into the other’s as Mark nipped gently at his lower lip, tugging it back into his own mouth to suckle on it for a moment before Haechan pulled away, leaving Mark to chase after his lips.

Haechan laughed lightly, running his thumbs along Mark’s knuckles, the laughter vibrating lightly against Mark’s skin as Haechan kissed across his jawline and down the side of his neck, his lips finding a home in the dips of Mark’s collarbone. Mark was itching to touch Haechan so he carefully unclasped their hands that were still pressed against the wall.

He ran his fingers up Haechan’s arms, across his shoulders and up his neck until he could take Haechan’s chin between his thumb and index finger to bring their lips back together. Haechan tangled his hands in Mark’s hair, surely ruining any semblance of order in his normally neat raven locks when he slid his tongue along the seam of Haechan’s lips.

Mark felt Haechan open up under his lips beautifully with a sigh as he tugged on Mark’s hair to bring them impossibly closer. The kiss was hot and a little messy, but it was so sweet and innocent at the same time it had Mark’s head spinning. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he stopped trying to keep track of how long they had been there with roaming hands and soft mouths pressed together; it could have been anywhere between hours and days given how sore his lips were when they finally split apart to catch their breaths for real, and not just taking tiny gasps of air seemingly from the other’s lungs.

Forcing his eyes open, Mark blinked and took in the sight of Haechan in front of him. To put it lightly, he looked _stunning_. Mark’s breath was taken right out of his chest again as he marvelled at how completely and utterly gorgeous the boy in front of him was, and it was only then that he realized so much time had passed that he was no longer drunk and the only reminder of the game he had lost was the dull throbbing behind his eyes.

Haechan’s reddened, spit-slick lips were shaped into an ‘o’, and there was a subtle, rose-colored blush that was scattered across the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears, which drew Mark’s attention to the earring that he hadn’t paid much attention to before.

“An earring?” Mark asked softly, reaching out and running his thumb across the curves of the gold—or it might just have been gilded, but Mark couldn’t tell—with the rest of his fingers brushing Haechan’s nape. He examined the earring, pierced through the shell of his ear thrice, and Mark couldn’t help but think it looked painful.

“Does it hurt?”

Haechan shrugged, and Mark let his hand drop back down to his waist, rubbing small circles into it as he waited for Haechan to respond.

“It did at first, but I’m used to it now,” Haechan admitted quietly. “It wasn’t even supposed to be an earring, I don’t think. I wore it as a ring when I was younger, but I was so afraid of losing one of the few remnants of my father that I had a friend put it somewhere more permanent.”

Mark hummed, pressing a kiss on the curve of Haechan’s jaw before his eyes drifted up to see the gradually brightening horizon.

“Dawn will be breaking soon,” Mark commented gently, not expecting Haechan to jolt away from him as if he was shocked, his eyes wide in panic. Mark drew his eyebrows together, placing his other hand on the other side of Haechan’s hips to keep him from slipping too far away. “Are you okay?”

“My ship departs at daybreak, and I need to get back to port or Junmyeon _will_ leave me,” Haechan explained hurriedly.

Mark opened his mouth to object to his departure, but Haechan leaned forward and kissed Mark so sweetly it made all of the thoughts that weren’t about the boy in front of him or his lips fly right out of his mind. Haechan reached up and cupped Mark’s face, kissing him like it was their last—which Mark belatedly realized that is probably was.

“Goodbye, Mark.” Haechan only pulled away far enough to murmur the words against his lips before giving him another achingly incomplete kiss. “See you in Tortuga.” With a last brush of his thumb across Mark’s cheek, Haechan was gone, dashing down the street until he turned the corner and was out of sight, leaving Mark confused and panting against the brick wall of Simon’s.

It took Mark a moment to collect himself before he began the short trek back to the barracks, his fingers never leaving his still-tingling lips all the way there. He couldn’t stop thinking about Haechan the whole way there; his eyes, his hair, his skin, his lips, the way he had melted into Mark’s touch, the way he tasted sweet despite the bitter alcohol, the way Mark just couldn’t get enough of him and the way he had disappeared so quickly.

Mark sighed under his breath and tried to let himself into his shared room with Yukhei as quietly as possible, but halfway through trying to close the door, he realized his attempts were futile because Yukhei was wide awake, perched on the side of his bed and fully dressed.

“Mark Lee where the _hell_ have you been?” Yukhei demanded, standing up when Mark shut the door the rest of the way with all thoughts of subtlety gone. “I was about to go out and look for you.”

“I was out at Simon’s, it’s not that big of a deal, Xuxi,” Mark shrugged off his plain coat with minimal finesse, tossing it on his desk chair. “It’s not like you don’t do it all the time.”

“But _you_ don’t, Mark.” Yukhei stepped in front of him, keeping Mark from flopping down on his bed just yet. “Is a guy not allowed to worry for his best friend?”

“If said guy would let said best friend take a nap, then yes.” Mark tried not to snap at Yukhei, but the headache was finally catching up with him, an incessant throbbing behind his temples.

Yukhei frowned at when Mark made a move to step around him, but caught Mark by the wrist when he stepped past the half-open curtains by their window. Yukhei pulls up Mark’s hand to his face to examine the back of it before showing it to him. Decorating the pale skin were a series of thin scratches that crisscrossed over the surface, melding into geometric red designs. Mark could only assume that they had come from his hands being pushed back against the brick wall, but he was mildly surprised he hadn’t felt them at all until Yukhei pointed them out.

“What happened to you?” Yukhei muttered as he grabbed a cloth from the water basin between their beds, gently dabbing it over the scratches. He analyzed the rest of Mark at the same time, his eyes pausing at the disarray of hair on his head and the light bruising on his lips.

“There was a fight at Simon’s. Nothing too major,” Mark deflected, hissing when the water stung.

Yukhei opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but couldn’t get anything out before there was a sharp knock at their door. He and Mark exchanged glances before Yukhei dropped his hands and walked to the door, opening it to reveal the Admiral of the Royal Navy himself.

Mark knew he did well in schooling, since he was already Chief Petty Officer at age seventeen, but he didn’t think his outstanding academic performance warranted the kind of attention from the Admiral that involved him knocking on his room door before the sun had risen.

“Good, you’re both awake. Come with me, there’s a situation.” The Admiral left no room for argument as he walked away from the doorway. Yukhei looked back at Mark, who wrung his hands to dry them of the excess water before grabbing his uniform coat that was neatly folded up on his bed.

“Let’s go, then.” Mark ushered Yukhei out the door, doing his best to shoulder on the jacket as he closed the door to their room behind him and rushed to keep up with Yukhei’s irritatingly long strides.

“There are pirates down at the port, and I am unable to go after them with my current injury.” The Admiral gestured to the bandages on his arm peeking out from under the sleeve of the jacket. “And to be honest, you two are the most highly recommended pair of officers to get any job done and fast.”

Mark’s hand clenched at the mention of pirates, but Yukhei’s hand on the back of his bicep as they followed the Admiral down to where their swords and guns were stored kept him a lot more focused on the situation at hand and kept his emotions in check.

“I need you two to go and do whatever you can to stop them from getting out of port. I will go grab whatever men I can, but I just need you to slow them down at minimum.” The Admiral watched Mark and Yukhei strap on their sheaths and holster their pistols in record time before bolting out the door, all formalities of needing to bow forgotten in the haste of the situation.

Yukhei hopped up onto his young bronze stallion as Mark swung himself onto the saddle of his white mare the moment they got the the stables adjacent to the barracks, bursting onto the street at full speed, urging their horses to run faster, rushing through the barren streets of London before the sun had risen.

The moment the port was in sight, however, Mark knew it was already too late. A ship was already sailing away as they galloped their horses down the docks. Mark caught sight of a the captain at the helm and, upon seeing the scar running down the side of his face and the eyepatch adorning his right eye, and didn’t even have to look at the side of the ship to know that it was _The Eve_ , with Captain Suho at the helm.

“Shit, it’s _The Eve_ ,” Yukhei commented, rather unnecessarily in Mark’s opinion because they had just been studying modern-day pirates in one of their shared classes, with Captain Suho being one of the most prevalent. “How did they get in here without anyone knowing?”

Mark ignored him in favor of pulling his mare to a stop at the very end of the dock to draw his pistol and aim it. He was one of the best marksmen and he leveled the pistol, squinting his eyes and holding his arm steady until he had locked onto Suho’s head with his gaze.

He cocked the gun, finger quivering over the trigger for just a split second too long, because in that moment, a flash of gold on the rigging caught Mark’s eye and drew his attention away from the captain.

It was a boy, climbing up the rigging on the side of _The Eve_ , his tan skin glowing from the backlight of the rising sun and his sun-bleached red hair glowing like a halo around his head, framing the golden piece of metal that was coiled round his ear like a serpent.

Mark’s breath was punched out of his lungs as he saw Haechan, the boy who he had just spent the last several hours kissing, depart on a pirate ship. It was no consolation that Haechan looked just as betrayed as Mark felt because he had distracted Mark for just long enough that the ship, and therefore its captain, were now out of range of his pistol.

Mark swore he had never hated anyone more since he had seen pirates slaughter his own mother before his wide, six-year-old eyes. He cursed aloud, shoving the pistol back into its holster with a shout, making Yukhei, who had approached him slowly from behind on his stallion, stare at him in concern.

Mark never cursed. _Never_.

He knew that Yukhei suspected something, but neither of them had time to comment on anything before a thundering herd of hooves could be heard on the port behind them. Mark and Yukhei turned around to see the Admiral and his Commodore trotting their stallions down the docks, ten men on horseback not too far behind.

“They were already out of range, Officer Lee?” The Admiral asked darkly, leaving Mark to numbly nod and grip the reins harder to hide his trembling fingers. The Admiral grimaced, but nodded understandingly.

“We had been tipped off that a group of pirates had been doing business, and by that I mean recruiting and swindling, at a bar not too far from here, and we came to you two right then,” the Commodore explained, and something clicked in Mark’s mind.

“Which bar, if I may ask?”

“Simon’s. The one next to Rucker’s.” The Commodore quirked an eyebrow at the question but answered it. Mark almost cursed aloud for the second time that day.

He had let himself get so distracted by Haechan that he failed to notice a group of actual pirates in the bar, the pirates that Mark assumed were Haechan’s crewmates. How could he have been so _blind_? He cursed himself again, very loudly but internally.

Mark shook his head slowly, turning back around to watch _The Eve_ disappear into the rising sun, a boy’s silhouette still hanging off of the rigging on the side. Mark’s head pounded, and he didn’t think it was just the aftereffects of the alcohol anymore. 

“How could we have let them get away?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? questions? are you liking this so far? any predictions?  
> i hope this helped give a little bit more insight into mark's side of things!


	4. Six Pirates and the Royal Navy Walk Into a Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is for jen and her ability to put up with my constant screaming  
> thank you for leaving the funniest comments on my drafts and keeping me inspired to write more :)

**PRESENT DAY - Lee Donghyuck**

**Tortuga**

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we got away with that.” Chenle grins, skipping down the uneven cobblestones of the main road. Donghyuck is minorly impressed that he doesn’t trip, given how clumsy he normally is, proven earlier that morning when he had tripped off of the gangplank onto the dock when they were unboarding.

“What do you mean _we_?” Jisung snorts from the opposite side of Donghyuck as Chenle. “Hyuck did all of the work and you were just along for the ride!”

“It’s not like you did anything either!” Chenle protests, letting a pout grace his lips, but the skip in his step never falters which means he’s not at all fazed by Jisung’s prodding. Before it can escalate further, though, Donghyuck decides to step in.

“It doesn’t matter who did what.” He pulls on Chenle’s elbow to keep him from stepping on a pile of unknown slop near the gutter, which Donghyuck doesn’t exactly _want_ to identify. “What matters is that Jeno and Renjun have gone off with the money to restock his salves. You know there are some things that he can only get in Tortuga.”

“But it was so _cool,_ ” Chenle whines, bouncing around behind Donghyuck so he can link arms with both him and Jisung. “And now we can go get sweets!”

“ _You_ can go get sweets,” Donghyuck says, carefully extracting his arm from Chenle’s grip. “ _I_ need to go to the witch’s shop to meet up with Jeno and Renjun.”

Chenle grabs for Donghyuck’s arm, but Jisung tugs him away in the direction of the sweets shop on the other side of the street, allowing Donghyuck to make his escape to the witch’s shop.

“Sungie!” Donghyuck calls, and Jisung turns back just in time to grab a small pouch from the air. He opens it to reveal freshly stolen coins Donghyuck had snatched off a drunk man in a British uniform. “Don’t spend it all!”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Jisung salutes and continues to drag Chenle off to the sweets shop, leaving Donghyuck to walk down the rest of the street alone to find the witch’s shop.

He doesn’t know exactly where the shop is or what it looks like, but Donghyuck figures it can’t be too far from the main road because Jeno and Renjun promised that they would meet the rest of the crew at the bar in less than a half an hour.  

It’s not a particularly notable afternoon in Tortuga by any stretch of the mind, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind the peace and quiet for once—or at least as peaceful and quiet as a place like Tortuga can get—because those are definitely things he has to fight to get when on board the _Helios_.

Don’t get Donghyuck wrong, he loves his crew, but they all had their own mysterious ways of being obnoxiously loud at the most inconvenient times, such as when Donghyuck might be falling asleep for the first time in a week but the sounds of Jeno and Renjun and Jaemin in the body of the ship below him doing _whatever they do down there_ is enough to keep Donghyuck awake for hours more even though he definitely doesn’t want to hear any of that.

Jisung is the only one who Donghyuck can trust to be quiet when he needs him to, and is often the one to brave the sight of whatever is happening in the trio’s little room to shut them up because he knows that Donghyuck might be trying to sleep and even though he’ll awake in a cold sweat in a few hours from the nightmares he can never shake, Jisung wants his captain to get as much rest as he can.

Donghyuck has known Jisung for longer than any of the rest of the crew because the younger had made his way onto _The Eve_ years ago when _The Eve_ was still around and Donghyuck had been part of the crew. As the two youngest, they spent an insurmountable amount of time around each other, and between them grew a bond that made them more of brothers than crewmates.

“Captain!” Donghyuck’s head snaps up to see Jeno waving him in from a doorway, one arm holding a curtain of beads to the side so he could poke his head through the entrance to, what apparently is, the witch’s shop.

“Did Renjun find what he needs?” Donghyuck asks when he steps inside, swatting the strings of beads out of his path so he can scan the inside of the shop for the medic. Renjun was talking with an old woman on the other side of the room, gesturing to specific bottles on the shelves as they discussed.

“I honestly don’t know.” Jeno shrugs, crossing his arms. “They stopped speaking this language a while ago and I haven’t been able to follow the conversation since.”

Donghyuck knows that Renjun speaks more than one language, since they had picked up the boy on the remnants of a merchant ship from China, but none of them have asked exactly where he comes from. Renjun has never been particularly forward in opening up to them about where he grew up or what he was doing in a Chinese merchant ship in the middle of the Caribbean Sea or why said merchant ship had been blown to bits and Renjun was the only visible survivor, or even why he knows so much about the healing arts.

“Is that the witch?” Donghyuck rocks himself up onto his toes to get a better look at the woman, but he isn’t sure that seeing her face with more clarity is helping him to figure out who she is. Again, Jeno shrugs.

“I couldn’t tell you. I’d assume because knowing Renjun, he’d want to talk to the witch themself for buying the ingredients,” Jeno concludes, a tiny smile gracing his lips when Renjun laughs at something the young woman says.

“How are you three?” Donghyuck doesn’t particularly _want_ to know about his first mate’s love life with two other members of his crew, but he feels an obligation of sorts to make sure that they’re all happy because if something goes awry with whatever unconventional relationship they have, it could very well spell disaster for the entire ship.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Jeno assures, knowing perfectly well that Donghyuck doesn’t really want to know everything. “Jaemin’s been spending a lot of nights at the helm so he’s been tired, and Renjun has been stressed because he’s running low on a couple of salves, but that’s being solved as we speak.”

Donghyuck hummed, nodding as he settled back onto the flats of his feet, giving up on trying to get a better look at the woman.

“What about you?” He nudges Jeno with his shoulder, startling him and making him tear his eyes away from Renjun.

“I’ve been alright, actually,” Jeno sighs, letting his shoulders fall a bit. “I’ve been thinking about the orphanage again, to be honest.” Donghyuck gives Jeno a look, an interesting mixture of pity and warning, before turning back to the bartering commotion between Renjun and the presumed witch.

“You should stop thinking about it,” Donghyuck mutters out from between his teeth. “Or if you do, don’t talk about it with Chenle. According to Jisung, he’s been having nightmares about it again.”

“I can’t just _stop_ thinking about it, Hyuck,” Jeno grits out, annoyed. “You can’t just forget trauma like that. Of all people, you know that better than anyone.”

Donghyuck flinches at the thought of what Jeno is referring to, but composes himself a beat later, nodding his head.

“You’re right,” Donghyuck says, “I _do_ know that better than anyone.”

Donghyuck knows that Jeno is aware he poked at a touchy subject, and isn’t too worried about him acting a little colder than usual when they talk about it. However, he really isn’t in the mood for a therapy session right now, so he is very grateful when Renjun walks up to them, a small box in hand.

“I got everything I need.” Renjun tucks the little container into the bag, slung across his body with the strap on one shoulder and the bag itself resting on his opposite hip.

There’s no real response that Renjun receives, but it’s awfully clear that there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before. Donghyuck takes a second to be thankful that Renjun is the most perceptive one of the crew and merely raises his eyebrow at the captain and his first mate before sliding between them and through the beaded curtain that leads outside.

Donghyuck and Jeno exchange a glance; Jeno purses his lips and gives Donghyuck a small nod before following Renjun out. Donghyuck lets his shoulders sink ever so slightly once Jeno is out of sight before starting out the door after them.

“Young man.” A voice from behind Donghyuck calls his attention back into the shop. Donghyuck turns around to see an old woman emerging from the back of the shop, the young woman that he had seen just moments earlier with Renjun was nowhere in sight.

“Me?” Donghyuck points at himself and the old woman nods.

“Your aura…” her voice is soft yet powerful; it carries across the small shop and sounds as if she is standing right next to Donghyuck instead of at the other side of the room, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever sensed before. May I read your palm?”

“I’m not in the mood to be swindled by a witch today, ma’am,” Donghyuck chuckles twisting on the heel of his boot to walk back out.

“I’ll do it free of charge.” The witch’s words stop him in his tracks and he spins back around to level her gaze.

“Why?” Donghyuck narrows his eyes, suspicious of the sudden act of charity. Witches never do anything for free; everyone ends up paying in some way or another and Donghyuck isn’t about to let himself get roped into something like that.

“For your own sake just as much as mine, I believe that this reading would be beneficial.” It’s the way the witch says it that makes Donghyuck agree, it’s the twist of severity on her lips and the flash of something serious in her eyes that tells Donghyuck it’s a good idea to listen to her.

“Hey, Cap! Are you—wait what’s happening?” Jisung bursts into the little shop, calling for Donghyuck with Chenle hot on his heels, but his voice falters when he sees Donghyuck walking over to the woman.

“He’s getting his fortune read,” Renjun comments. Donghyuck didn’t see him come back in the shop, but when he glances back, there he is: standing arms crossed, leaning against the wall next to a confused looking Jeno.

“My aura is unique, apparently,” Donghyuck says a bit helplessly as the witch sits him down at a table, prudently seating herself across from him.

The witch hums in confirmation as she splays Donghyuck’s hand out flat on the table, tracing the lines of his calloused palm with her wrinkled, knobby fingers. The air is still, everyone in the room holding their breath in anticipation of what the witch will say.

“You will meet a stranger soon who is very important to your future. They will guide you down the path, and you must follow.” She grips his hand in her own, turning it over to examine the blue-colored veins on the back of it. “That path ends in blood, but I see tranquility at the end.”

Donghyuck is silent, trying to absorb everything she is saying. He has half a mind to write it down, but realizes that she is holding his right hand, so he can’t write anything even if he tries. Instead, he opts to ask a question in hopes that it can give him a little more insight on the cryptic sentences the witch is spouting.

“Who will I meet? Why do I have to follow them?” Donghyuck frowns, trying to make sense of it all.

The witch just smiles, gently folding his palm closed, patting his closed hand.

“You will know sooner than you expect.”

With that, the old woman stood from the table and walked briskly away from the table, disappearing into a back room behind the purchasing counter. Donghyuck rolled his eyes, rubbing his thumb along his knuckles as he got up.

“Enlightening information?” Renjun asks, still leaning against the wall. From the look on his face, partnered with the unadulterated curiosity shining through the eyes of both Jeno and Jisung, Donghyuck can tell that they didn’t hear anything the witch had told him. Chenle just looks thoroughly uninterested in the whole affair as he pops a sweet into his mouth.

“I’ll explain later,” Donghyuck promises, gesturing for all of them to follow him out of the shop. “For now, we should get to the bar before Jaemin decides to do something especially stupid.”

“I think you’re mixing him up with yourself, Hyuck,” Jisung snorts, earning a whack on the back of the head from his captain as he walks by the younger. Chenle laughs at Jisung’s misfortune, nearly choking on the candy.

“Watch it, Sungie, or you’ll be on mopping duty for a week,” Donghyuck warns, but the smile tugging the corners of his lips upward tells them that it’s an empty threat.

“You’d better actually tell us later.” Jeno is taller than Donghyuck, so his longer strides allow him to easily catch up with him. “No secrets.”

“No secrets,” Donghyuck agrees, nodding his head. He touches Jeno’s elbow softly—a silent signal that he is sincere in his promise to fill the crew in later, just that now wasn’t the time.

“Alright, you three!” Renjun calls, making Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jisung all turn around to spot him and Chenle nearly a half of a block behind them. “Slow down you long-legged freaks.”

Jisung rolls his eyes and makes an attempt to keep walking, but Donghyuck grabs his bicep and yanks him back to keep him from walking farther ahead. Renjun scurries up to them, grumbling about this not being a race. Chenle just laughs and clings to the arm that isn’t in Donghyuck’s iron grip to make sure Jisung can’t get away.

Once Renjun is a couple of steps ahead of them, Donghyuck squeezes his arm for his comment earlier before letting him go. Jisung immediately steals a candy from Chenle’s bag as retribution for laughing at him earlier.

The streets of Tortuga in the late afternoon aren’t nearly as crazy as they are in the evenings, and Donghyuck appreciates the relative quietness as the five of them stride through the streets without being bothered.

He is acutely aware that it’s most likely because he remembered to put on a hat before he left the _Helios_ earlier, so his earring isn’t as visible as it would otherwise be. Not to say that Jeno, Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung especially, don’t get their own stares because of the crew that they’re a part of and their own respective histories, but they might not have made it to the bar unchallenged if Donghyuck had chosen to walk the streets of a place like Tortuga with no disguise.

“Any bets on whether or not Jaemin has managed to start a fight yet or not?” Jisung asks somewhat sarcastically, but Jeno, in full seriousness, squints up at the clock tower that they are passing.

“He hasn’t. It’s only been ten minutes,” he points out, turning to Jisung. “He needs to be left unattended for a full twelve before he starts a fight.”

“Thirteen if it’s a good day,” Renjun snorts, receiving an earnest nod from Jeno and an eye roll from Jisung. Donghyuck smiles under the brim of his hat, hopefully not tipping his crew off that he enjoys their banter a little more than he should when he’s supposed to be the one keeping them in line.

Sure enough, true to Jeno’s prediction and precisely eleven minutes after they had sent Jaemin off alone, the five of them push their way into the bar to see that no fights have erupted and the bar is about as peaceful as any bar in Tortuga could ever be.

Jaemin is sitting at a circular table in the back of the bar, fiddling with the hem on the sleeve of his coat. Donghyuck feels a little swell of pride that Jaemin hasn’t started a fight and that there’s at least a small possibility that he has learned from the last incident.

He leads them over to the table to see that Jaemin has already gotten drinks for the rest of them. Jaemin is already halfway through his beer, but the rest of the drinks have remain untouched, a little to Donghyuck’s surprise. He figures that if Jaemin hasn’t started a fight, he at least would have taken a drink from their beers. This is a pleasant surprise, as far as Donghyuck is concerned.

Jaemin behaving well means one of two things: one, he’s trying to impress one or both of Jeno and Renjun, or two, he’s in trouble with one or both of Jeno and Renjun and is trying to make it up to them.

Donghyuck can’t quite tell which it is, and he honestly isn’t sure if he _wants_ to know which it is.

“Okay, but I just don’t get it,” Chenle huffs, plopping himself into a seat and taking a swig of his drink, having run out of sweets on the walk to the bar because Jisung kept stealing them. “Why didn’t Renjun just get Haechan to steal what he needed? It would have been both quicker and cheaper.”

Renjun just shakes his head as he takes a seat next to Jaemin, pressing a small kiss into his cheek.

“It’s terrible luck to steal from witches.”

“Superstitious old brat,” Chenle mocks into his mug, and Renjun must be in a forgiving mood because he makes no indication that he heard Chenle’s jab even though Donghyuck hears it and is father away.

“That’s one of the few lines I’m not willing to cross,” Donghyuck hums, sitting himself down between Jeno and Jisung as he takes a sip out of his mug.

“There are other lines?” Jaemin laughs.

Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow over the lip of his cup as he takes another drink to hide his smile.

“That’s already more than you.”

“Touché, captain,” he grins.

There is a moment of quiet amongst them at the table, but unfortunately, Chenle can’t stand it, so he brings it upon himself to break the silence.

“So… when is Mark going to be here?”

“Oh, he’s here already.” Donghyuck sets down his nearly-empty mug of beer. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he is until he started drinking. Getting slightly ominous premonitions from magical old ladies leaves him quite parched, apparently.

“What?” Jisung sounds astounded. “How do you know that?”

“I just do,” Donghyuck shrugs. He doesn’t tell them that although the Royal Navy can fold up their sails and take down the Union Jack from the high mast, that doesn’t mean their ships are completely inconspicuous. Donghyuck had spotted _The Empress_ anchored in the center of a lagoon not too far from where the _Helios_ is docked.

The thought of it makes Donghyuck a little more antsy about getting back than he would like to be, but it makes him glad that he didn’t have anyone stay back with the ship alone because not a single one of them could take on the entire crew of _The Empress_.

“Why hasn’t he shown himself then?” Jisung is trying to get a grasp of what is going on in Donghyuck’s mind, but the captain isn’t making it easy for him.

“Because he doesn’t know I’m here yet,” he patiently explains, folding his hand on the table in front of him. “The _Helios_ looks different from the last time he saw it, and it’s doubtful that he’s gotten close enough to recognize any of us.”

“How are you going to let him know that you’re here then? We don’t know how much time we have,” Jisung points out, making Jaemin lean forward.

“Yeah, cap. Got a plan to get his attention?”

“I always have a plan.” Donghyuck pretends to look mildly insulted, but Renjun’s snort from across the table breaks the facade.

“They’re not always the best plans,” Renjun says as he shakes his head. “Don’t do anything stupid this time.”

“No promises.” Donghyuck tips back the rest of the contents of his mug, letting the mediocre alcohol warm his throat and chest on the way down as he slides out of his chair and stands. “I’m going to get a refill.”

“Hold on, I’m coming too.” Jising scrambles to get up and join him. They get approximately two steps from the table when a man walks right into Jisung’s path and the two bump into each other. Donghyuck grabs the hilt of his sword on instinct, but doesn’t draw it yet.

“Watch it, kid,” the man snarls. Jisung puts his hands up in defense, but just like Donghyuck, he doesn’t apologize. “Aren’t you going to say sorry?” The man steps close, a little too close for Donghyuck’s taste, and he is about to step in to intervene when Jisung responds.

“It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” the man says with a sniff, “little bitch.” The addition comes as he takes his first step away from them, but neither Donghyuck nor Jisung miss the insult.

Now, normally Donghyuck would leave the situation alone if Jisung puts his hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder like he is doing now, but this presents the perfect opportunity.

He sees it.

Jisung sees it.

The crew sees it.

“Donghyuck, _don’t_ —” Jisung starts, but Donghyuck is already swinging his fist. It hits the guy square in the jaw as he passes the pirate.

“In the name of the King…” Renjun mutters loudly, sinking down in his seat, making Jaemin laugh raucously.

The man straightens up from the blow and turns to face Donghyuck. He towers over Donghyuck by at least four inches, making him roughly six feet of solid muscle that looks very _very_ pissed off at him.

He tries to take a swing at Donghyuck, but he is too fast for the drunkard and ducks just in time for the man’s fist to connect with the jaw of someone passing right behind him. He spills his beer on the floor, the splash just narrowly missing Donghyuck’s boots, then looks up to meet the eyes of his aggressor.

The first man’s eyes morph from anger to surprise as the second man steps forward, and although he is closer to Donghyuck’s height, picks up the first man without blinking an eye and throws him halfway across the bar and into a table.

The table—which had previously been home to the beers of four fishermen—now lay in splinters on the floor, surrounded by a group of very angry looking fisherman.

Someone throws their beer.

Someone yells.

The entire bar erupts into chaos.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Jeno accuses as he sidles over to Donghyuck, dodging a chair that sails over their heads.

“Maybe,” Donghyuck grins, sidestepping a punch. “You’ll never know.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, taking Donghyuck by the shoulders and moving him a couple of feet to the right to allow a pair of burly men throwing punches at each other to barrel past.

“It will do what I need it to do,” Donghyuck comments offhandedly, spotting Chenle up on top of the chandelier throwing the sticks of wax at bar-goers below while Jisung tosses him up some more ammo from the other un-lit lanterns around the room.

“Which is _what_ exactly?” Jeno’s tone is annoyed, but the annoyance more seems to be aimed at Chenle who had just thrown a candle at Jeno and hit him smack in the middle of the forehead.

“It will let him know that I’m here.” At the same time he says this, he sees Jaemin challenging the bartender to a duel, only using a beer mug to threaten the poor man while Renjun was trying to talk him down from his perch on top of a stack of chairs.

“How will he know this is you?”

“Bar fights never start before four o’clock in the afternoon on Tortuga unless a pirate is here.”

Jeno pauses for a moment to think about it, before conceding with a nod of his head.

“I hate that you make sense sometimes,” he sighs, delivering a swift uppercut to one of the angry fishermen from earlier who had come running at his side.

“I know.” Donghyuck winks and makes his way through the crowd to the bar. The bartender is no longer being threatened by a slightly-inebriated Jaemin, but he is hunkering down a bit below the counter. “Another one,” he commands, placing his mug on the bar.

The bartender looks a little affronted that he would actually order another beer at a time like this, but scurries off to get it anyway. Donghyuck hoists himself up onto the counter so he is perched on the edge with his legs crossed so he can survey the scene, his chin resting on his palm.

Together, Jeno and Renjun are tugging Jaemin back to his seat in the corner so he can’t do any more damage to either the chairs of himself, whereas Chenle is still pelting candles, and now whatever else Jisung manages to get up to him, down at everyone fighting below.

Donghyuck’s mug is set down by the bartender next to him on the counter before he ducks down again to hide from the irreparable amount of damage that is probably being done to his business at the moment. Donghyuck doesn’t blame him.

He is reaching for his drink when the mug is unceremoniously knocked off the counter. No, not knocked, _kicked_. Donghyuck isn’t so much mad as he is exasperated. This is the second time in ten minutes that he has been hindered in his quest to get another beer and it is getting quite annoying.

Donghyuck twists to the side to tell the person off, but he stops himself as soon as he sees the boots. No one in their right mind would wear boots that nice in a place like Tortuga.

The realization hits him just before his hat is plucked off of his head and Donghyuck leaps up into a standing position on the counter in a single swift movement. He draws his sword and points it at the person, finding that they already have their own blade at his throat.

Donghyuck laughs as he slowly looks up, his eyes dragging up from the leather boots to the blue uniform coat to a pair of narrowed brown eyes that look as cold as the blade that their owner has pointed at Donghyuck.

“Mark Lee,” Donghyuck smiles wide. “Long time no see.”


	5. The Good, The Bad, and The Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i had to look up whether or not there were wallets in the 1700s  
> spoiler alert: there were  
> tHE MORE YOU KNOW

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**Tortuga**

* * *

 

Mark wants nothing more in this world than to wipe that taunting smirk right off of Haechan’s face, and is quite irked by the fact that he can’t actually do so without impaling himself on the pirate’s sword, the point grazing the lapel on his uniform.

Haechan’s bright blue eyes bore straight through Mark’s very soul, making him want to move out from under his gaze, but he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of squirming beneath his scrutiny. Haechan looks Mark up and down, taking the sight of him in for quite some time, and Mark almost forgets to breathe.

Mark isn’t sure how long they’re going to stay like this: swords at each other’s throats, unmoving, everyone else in the room staring at them. He is tempted to greet Haechan for a split second before remembering why they have to greet each other with swords and not handshakes.

Haechan only furthers his point by chuckling lightly. Mark’s eye twitches.

“Something funny to you, pirate?”

“You’re the captain of the entire Royal Navy,” Haechan pauses to laugh, “and you still don’t have any calluses.” He exaggerates a pout, sticking out his lower lip but the flash of humor never leaves his eyes.

“Admiral,” Mark growls, but carefully clenches his free hand into a fist so Haechan can no longer see his unblemished palm. Haechan looks back at him, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I’m the _Admiral_ of the Royal Navy, pirate,” he spits. Haechan smirks, eyes narrowing.

“Good for you.” His voice is light as he rocks back on his heels, but he never once lowers his sword. “Say my name and we can call this a truce.” He grinds his blade against Mark’s, creating a horrendous sound that makes Mark want to shrink back and cover his ears.

“Haechan,” Mark grits out as more of a warning than a sign of peace, but the pirate lowers his sword with a flourish and a grin.

“It’s Captain Haechan, but I’ll let it slide.” He flips the sword in his hand before sheathing it. Mark glares, but lowers his own sword, slowly sliding it back into his own sheath. “So what brings you to a godforsaken place like Tortuga, _Admiral_?”

To Mark, the last word has just enough of a mocking lilt that he debates pulling out his sword again, even if it is just to show that he is here on business, and not to for Haechan’s joking pleasure.

“I figured that Tortuga would be a bit too violent for a nice, respectable young man like you.” Haechan runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around until they spot his discarded hat on the floor of the bar a couple paces away.

“Too _violent_?” Mark scoffs. “Last time we met, I turned your back into a fillet.”

Mark relishes in how Haechan’s smile drops for a beat, watching the pirate roll his shoulder and grimace as if recalling the pain. He spots one of Haechan’s hands drift a little closer to the hilt of his sword again, and Mark felt a sick sense of relief that he could rile Haechan up just as much as Haechan could with him. 

“And I have a very lovely scar as a reminder,” he bites back, words dripping with venom. He turns to face the crowd that has stopped fighting to watch the exchange between the two infamous enemies, appealing to the mass. “Does he care to have the favor returned?”

The crowd laughs raucously, and for the first time Mark realizes just how _alone_ he is here. None of his crew members are here yet, and he is surrounded by the better part of 75 ragged drunkards that wouldn’t hesitate to rip a man like Mark to shreds if given the chance. His hand barely has time to twitch in the direction of his pistol before a voice cuts through the rowdiness, loud and clear and _annoyed_.

“Are you _bloody_ kidding me?” Mark whips around to see Yukhei standing in the doorway, Jaehyun and Yuta jogging up behind him, completely out of breath. “How did you even know he was here?”

He marches forward, pushing his way through the throng of people until he stands at the at the section of the counter that Mark is standing on, his arms crossed and his lips pulled taut.

“Just a hunch,” Mark tries to deflect, but he knows that Yukhei isn’t going to deal with his nasty habit of not divulging any information that has to do with Haechan.

“So Simon’s didn’t have anything to do with where you knew to find me?” There’s a teasing lilt to Haechan’s voice that makes Mark clench his jaw so he doesn’t grind his teeth. “How interesting.”

He’s deliberately riling Mark up, pushing his buttons in a way that only he could, and Mark loathes how well it’s working.

“That was six years ago. Don’t expect me to remember anything from that other than how much I hated you.”

Haechan opens his mouth to retort, but one of his crew members speaks up first.

“What is Simon’s?” Mark recognizes him as Jisung, the youngest member of _The Eve_ ’s crew when it was still sailing, and the only survivor of the ship’s demise beside Haechan himself.

“Simon’s is a bar in London,” Yukhei supplies almost instinctively, but Mark can tell from the look in his eyes that even he doesn’t quite grasp the situation. “What does Simon’s have to do with anything?” Before Mark could even attempt to explain, another one of the _Helios_ crew members stepped forward, an finger pointing incredulously between Mark and Haechan.

“So you _were_ telling the truth? About the bar six years ago?” The man stands tall, his dark hair shaggy but pushed off of his forehead in a way that makes Mark take a moment longer to recognize him as Jeno, Haechan’s second-in-command.

“Shut it.” Haechan reaches down to whack Jeno on the arm. “Now is _not_ the time.”

“So you talk about me?” Mark takes the chance to throw back a comment that succeeds in leaving Haechan as irritated as the pirate’s words had left Mark just moments earlier.

“It’s nothing good, don’t think anything otherwise,” he splutters, and Mark swallows the swell of pride in his chest because he can reduce the infamous Captain Haechan to a stuttering, red-cheeked mess with five little words.

“Oh, really?” Mark uses his opportunity to the fullest, replaying back the same teasing lilt that Haechan had used. “Then what’s with the blush?”

“There’s nothing good to be said about you.” Haechan composes himself, completely disregarding the last question. “I’d even wager that I could beat you if you didn’t cheat like a pirate”

“I didn’t cheat,” Mark frowns. “And I’m not a pirate.”

“That’s exactly what a pirate would say,” Haechan provokes, smiling.

Mark puts his hand on the hilt of his sword, but before anything else can happen, he is hit smack in the middle of the forehead with a large cylindrical object. He glances down at the floor to see a candle bouncing down off the bar onto the ground.

“Watch it, buster.” The voice comes from overhead.

Mark whirls around to look up, and he is met by the sight of small blond boy with an impish grin sitting atop the chandelier, tossing another candle between his hands.

“Chenle get _down_ from there!” the petite member of Haechan’s crew scolds, having been standing silently next to Jeno until then. Mark frowns. He doesn’t remember ever having seen him before.

“But Renjun—” the blond boy, Chenle, tries to protest.

“Down. Now.” Renjun’s tone leaves no room for argument, but it doesn’t stop Chenle from groaning exaggeratedly. Mark looks at Renjun again for a fraction of a second, but when he looks back up at the chandelier, Chenle is gone.

Mark’s eyes widen, he scans around the room and the faces of the onlooking crowd of everyone in the bar who has stopped to watch them, but there is no sign of Chenle anywhere. At least not until there is a tap on the back of his boot that scares the living daylights out of him and it takes every ounce of willpower not to jump five feet in the air.

He slowly turns to see Chenle sitting cross-legged on the counter just behind him, toting a couple of candles and that mischievous smile that scares Mark just a little bit. Mark looks at Haechan for an explanation as to how that just happened, but the captain merely shrugs, clearly enjoying Mark’s confusion a bit too much.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning how Chenle gets around.”

Mark slowly nods, trying to absorb the dynamic of the _Helios_ crew. It reminds him a bit of his own crew, just with a little less formality and looser morals. His eyes travel back to Haechan’s, and he clears his throat.

“I come with a message from the King.”

“Oh, great,” Haechan snorts, “I _love_ that guy.” He hops down from the counter and Mark falters.

“What are you doing?” Mark asks. For the first time, he considers the possibility of Haechan just walking away and not listening to him at all. He hates how much that scares him.

Haechan raises an eyebrow, gesturing towards the onlookers. No one is even trying to hide the fact that they all are listening in.

“If we’re going to discuss whatever the King sent you for, I’m reasonably sure we don’t want an audience.”

Mark scrunches his nose, a little annoyed at himself for not thinking about that, but hastily nods and jumps down from the bartop. He is about to follow Haechan out the door when he realizes something. He grabs his wallet and places a couple of coins on the counter as payment for the beer he kicked over and was fully sure that Haechan didn’t pay for.

The entire _Helios_ crew is out the door before Mark gestures for his men to follow. Yukhei, Jaehyun, and Yuta flank him when they walk back outside. Mark tries not to squint as the bright afternoon sunshine strikes his eyes.

“Let’s head back to the  _Helios_ where we can—” Haechan turns around, beginning to give a suggestion but Mark cuts him off.

“We go to _The Empress_ for discussion. I don’t trust pirates,” he counters.

“Funny. I don’t trust admirals who try to kill me,” Haechan sneers. Before anything can escalate further, both Yukhei and Renjun step between them.

“This is an important matter and it needs to be discussed.” Yukhei looks at Haechan, pleading. “Just hear him out?”

“Neutral location?” Renjun suggests, and everyone murmurs in assent.

Mark doesn’t like that he’s outnumbered by Haechan’s crew, now noticing that there’s another man standing next to Jeno with shining eyes and a crooked smile, but decides it’s best not to say anything if he wants to stand a chance of Haechan listening to him.

“There’s another bar not too far down the road. We could talk about the King’s message over drinks and—” Jeno starts.

“No.” Mark speaks with such finality that Yukhei raises an eyebrow, leaving Mark to elaborate. “We aren’t going to a bar.” Jeno looks mildly annoyed at being interrupted but Haechan chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Still can’t hold your liquor, Admiral?”

“Careful there, Haechan,” Mark says, and it sounds threatening enough for Jeno’s hand twitch in the direction of his own sword. “Or you could just end up with a scar on your pretty face this time.”

“I’d like to see you _try_ ,” Jisung growls, putting himself between Mark and his captain. Ever the one for surprises, Haechan laughs, stopping them all.

“What about this is funny to you?” Mark is annoyed, letting it leak into his voice.

“You think I’m pretty.” Haechan has this ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face.

“ _That’s_ what you chose to take out of what I said?” He’s incredulous. Haechan clicks his tongue, never losing that smile.

“You never denied it,” he sing-songs, and Mark seriously considers lunging at him before Yukhei jumps in.

“Well,” Yukhei tries to diffuse the tension. “There was a little clearing that we passed on our way in, just a twenty paces from the main road.” He places a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

That is how they all end up sitting on the grass in a circle like five-year-olds about to play a yard game.

“The King sent me to find you and—” Mark starts, but Haechan waves him off.

“I know that already.” He stretches his legs out and leans back on his hands, tipping his head back to bask in the sunshine. “Skip to the part where you tell me the important information.” As much as Mark wants to leave another slice in Haechan’s flesh, he clenches his fist into the soft grass and takes a deep breath before trying again.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard about the attack on Pearl Bay. It’s your home island after all.”

“I have,” he nods.

“Good.” Mark pressed his fingers into the dirt. “The King sent me and my crew to eliminate this new pirate, Taeyong, because he poses a threat to our territories in the Caribbean. I’m under orders to find a common difference between us so we can work together to get rid of him.”

“Huh,” Haechan sits up. “Does he offer compensation for having to deal with both you and that stick up your ass.”

“Watch it,” Mark snarls, but Haechan puts his hands up.

“Fine, I accept, but we need to agree on the terms of this temporary alliance… if you even want to call it that.”

“You accept?” Jisung hisses from Haechan’s left. “Are you kidding me? Do you _remember_ what he did to you?”

“No, Jisung, I just happened to forget all about him slicing my back open.” Haechan shoots him a scathing look, but he doesn’t back down.

“Haechan I need to know _why_.”

“Because Pearl Bay is where I grew up, and I made promises to the people there that I would protect them when it came to it.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve already failed some of them, and I don’t intend to fail the rest. If Mark is really here to help get rid of a common enemy, I’m going to take whatever help I can so it gets done faster.”

There is tense silence for a moment as Haechan and Jisung stare each other down. Jisung backs down first, unsurprisingly in Mark’s opinion, flopping back down onto the grass with a huff.

“Fine, but if you get hurt, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“I won’t get hurt, Sungie,” Haechan shoots his youngest crew member a smile before looking straight at Mark. “Isn’t that right, Admiral.” Mark puts up his hand like he is swearing an oath.

“I promise that no harm will come to you or your crew members by my hand or by the hand of any crew member of _The Empress_.”

“See?” Haechan nods, turning back to Jisung as he relaxes back on his hands again. “We’re all good.” Jisung doesn’t look entirely satisfied, but lets it go nonetheless.

“So what are the other terms of the agreement?” Renjun leans forward. “We should establish them now.”

“I was thinking that—” Haechan stops abruptly, sitting straight. “Wait what is _that_?” He stands up and looks behind Mark. At first, Mark is inclined to think that Haechan is just screwing with him, but then Yukhei stands too, eyes wide in horror.

“Praise be upon the King…” Yukhei breathes, his hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword. Mark jumps up and looks behind him to see a plume of smoke down at the lagoon.

 _Shit_.

 _The Empress_.

“Let’s go!” Mark calls, not waiting for a response before he dashes off down out of the clearing, taking the shortcut off the main road, down through the grassy hills to the lagoon.

“Is that where _The Empress_ is?”

Mark didn’t notice that Haechan was running beside him until he speaks, and suddenly Mark has to focus a lot harder on not tripping down the hillside.

“Yes.”

“It’s not burning,” Haechan points out as they get closer. “It’s just the surrounding trees.”

There’s already a small commotion happening at the waterfront when Haechan and Mark reach the beach. It’s Kun and Taeil fighting off a half dozen or so drunkards who were armed with torches.

It appears that the drunkards had come with the intention of setting fire the _The Empress_ , but had been spotted by Kun and Taeil who had rowed out to the shore to fight them off before they could get to the ship. Mark breathes out a sigh of relief because they’re both physically unscathed so far, or at least that’s what he can tell from this distance.

He doesn’t think that the crew can handle another loss right now, god forbid _two_. His two officers are yelling for the drunkards to stay back, but they pay no attention. Mark draws his sword and continues forward.

“Leave now by the command of the King or I will have your heads as retribution,” he bellows. The drunkards spin around as fast as their addled minds allow them to without falling over. They take one look at the Admiral of the Royal Navy standing next to Captain Haechan, both looking positively menacing with their swords drawn and their faces twisted into scowls.

They turn tail and _run_.

This works out really well for them for a moment until they run smack into the rest of both crews, who just made it down the main path that leads to the lagoon—none of them took the hillside shortcut that he and Haechan did.

“What are you doing?” Yukhei yells, stalking straight up to the now-cowering group of five is now outnumbered.

“He’s responsible for the capture and hanging of so many people,” one man speaks finally, pointing a shaking finger at Mark. “We thought it only fitting that we cause him some damage right back.”

“How did you find us?” Jaehyun asks as Yuta runs past to make sure that Kun and Taeil are alright.

“It wasn’t that hard,” the man shrugs, “we were at the bar.”

“You’re the bastard that called Jisung a b—” Haechan steps forward and punches one of the other men in the group straight in the jaw. The impact muffles the rest of the last word, but Mark has a pretty good idea of how to fill in the blank.

The man who Haechan decked looks to be the biggest there, but he hunkers down in front of the pirate almost comically, pleading apologies and groveling—both of which Haechan looks thoroughly uninterested in—while holding his cheek in pain, the beginnings of a new bruise already evident.

Haechan wrings out his hand, knuckles split from the punch.

“I’m not interested in your groveling, whelp,” he snarls. “You insult my crew, you get hurt.”

“Same goes for mine.” Mark doesn’t actually have any intentions of hurting the little band of rebels as of the moment, mostly because both Kun and Taeil are alright, but he knows that if either of them had gotten injured, he would be jumping at the men's throats just the same as Haechan is.

“Leave now and don’t come back,” Jeno says, unsheathing his sword with grace, “we may not be so forgiving next time.”

The men scurry away without a second thought, mumbling among themselves. Mark thinks that they’re lucky they still have their hides; he knows how formidable Haechan is, and is a little surprised that nothing else came of this encounter.

“Admiral!” Mark spins around to see Kun sitting on the beach calling his name, Taeil’s head cradled in Yuta’s lap. “We saw them coming and came to the beach before they could get anywhere near _The Empress_ and—”

“Kun,” Mark sighs, not bothering with any sort of title or formality. “It’s alright. You’re fine.”

“Taeil isn’t…” Kun trails off, looking at the scientist who is panting against Yuta’s leg. “You know his lungs are bad, and this physical exertion was absolutely awful for him.”

“He’s breathing…” Yuta shrugs, running his fingers through Taeil’s hair comfortingly. “That’s the best we can hope for right now.”

There is a murmur behind him and Mark looks to see Haechan and Renjun conversing rapidly, but quietly with wild gestures. Before Mark can ask what is happening, Haechan shoves Renjun gently in Mark’s direction, earning pursed lips and a frown from the petite man.

“I might be able to help Taeil…” Renjun bites his lip, explaining. He rummages through the bag that’s slung across his body until he finds an odd-looking bottle with a clear liquid inside.

“No he _can_ help Taeil.” Haechan crosses his arms. “He’s just scared to.”

“I am not _scared_ ,” Renjun hisses before turning his attention back to the bottle. “I’ve only done this once before and I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Just try?” Yuta pleads, his eyes wide with hope. Renjun nods with a grimace, walking forward and kneeling down in front of Taeil. Mark is taken aback that Yuta, of all people, would be so inclined to trust anyone in such a short amount of time, especially since Renjun is a pirate on the _Helios_.

He chalks it up to Yuta caring just as much about Taeil’s research as the scientist himself, but makes a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Mark can’t see what Renjun does, exactly, but when he gets up from the ground, brushing sand off of his knees, Taeil is sitting up, his breathing normal. Mark sends Yuta a look, but Yuta pulls his lips into a wide grin and shrugs, hugging Taeil.

“How did you…?” Mark starts, but Renjun just shakes his head, trudging over to Jeno and tucking himself into the taller man’s side. The other man from Haechan’s crew, the one Mark doesn’t know the name of, wraps his arms around Renjun’s middle, resting his chin on his head from behind.

“I think we can discuss our agreement tomorrow morning,” Haechan says slowly, scanning around to take account of the state of his crew. “We all need rest. I know that we, for one, have been traveling for nearly a week nonstop.”

“Agreed.” Mark feels drained all of a sudden. “We’ll meet in that clearing, mid-morning tomorrow?” Haechan nods, examining his bloodied knuckles.

“Great.” Yukhei purses his lips, hand resting on his cocked hip. “I need to talk with Mark anyway. We’ll reconvene then.”

Without another word, Haechan starts back up the hill, using the main path this time. The rest of the _Helios_ crew follows equally silently. Even Chenle has lost a bit of the bounce in his step when Mark sees him leave and he’s confused on how the energy has made such a drastic swing in the opposite direction.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before Yukhei is making his way over to him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth anxiously, tapping his fingers lightly on his leg.

“What are we going to do if this keeps happening?” His voice is a little too anxious for Mark’s liking. “We’re not in our own territory anymore, not even close, and if word gets out us being here, we’re going to be _hunted_.”

“And that’s a risk we have to live with.” Mark rubs a hand over his face. “If the alliance with Haechan works out, which I suspect it will, we’ll have double the protection as well as nearly double the speed at which this will be resolved.”

“Mark!” Jaehyun calls over to him. “What exactly is the history between you and Haechan? He mentioned Simon’s? And six years?”

“You’ve known him for _six years_?” Kun pipes up. “You’ve known Captain Haechan for _six goddamn years_ and we’re just hearing about this?”

“It was never important until now,” Mark protests, but Yukhei isn’t having any of it.

“That’s bullshit,” he accuses. “If you’ve known him for six years, it’s been important for that long.”

Mark sighs through his teeth in exasperation, massaging his temples.

“We ran into each other at Simon’s bar in London, maybe six and a half years ago? I don’t recall the exact date, but I remember that I didn’t know who he was. We got into a fight at the bar, but he escaped before I could figure out who he was. All he’d given me was a name, and then I chased him down to see him depart on _The Eve_ , Captain Suho at the wheel and Haechan on the rigging.”

Yukhei puffs out a breath of disbelief, but the look that Mark shoots him shuts him up. The narrowed eyes he flashes back, though, let Mark know the subject will be brought back up again.

“Let’s get back to _The Empress_ ,” Mark instructs. “It’s been a long day and we need rest for negotiations and travel tomorrow.”

They all file into the little rowboat and miraculously, all of them fit in and make it back to the ship in one trip, Mark and Yukhei at the oars. The crew helps haul each other back up onto the ship, and Mark debates selecting more crew members for the umpteenth time, but for the umpteenth time he finds himself with the same answer.

There are no men in the world that he trusts more than the ones on his ship now, and even after the deaths of three of them, the most recent being Hansol, Mark still cannot bring himself to replenish his numbers. It feels like he’s replacing them, like he’s trying to overwrite what memories he has with his old crewmates with whatever new recruits he might have.

It feels to Mark like he would be cheating his crewmates, his friends, his _brothers_ out of the place they all hold in his heart, and that’s not something he could ever stand for.

It’s nightfall by the time Yukhei makes any approach to talk to Mark again, and he finds himself being pulled from his thoughts by the gentle knocks on the doors to his quarters.

“Come in,” he calls, putting his quill back in the ink bottle. He pushes aside his drafted update letter to the King as Yukhei slips through the doors and inside the warm, candle-lit room.

“Why did you lie?” Yukhei prompts him gently, and Mark doesn’t even have ask what he is talking about.

“I didn’t lie, Yukhei,” Mark stands from his chair. “I just omitted some parts of the truth.”

“The crew deserves to know what happened between you and Haechan,” Yukhei crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I deserve to know what happened. Six years and you’ve never told me what happened that night.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t know.” Yukhei walks over and pokes Mark in the chest with a finger. “I’ve known you for nearly ten years, and that morning is the only time I’ve ever seen you not take a shot. Why? Why didn’t you shoot Suho when you had the chance? Why didn’t you shoot Haechan?”

Mark is silent for a long moment, letting Yukhei’s words sink in. The crew deserves to know everything about this, for their safety more than anything, and Mark nearly despises himself for never having the guts to have told Yukhei anything.

“We weren’t fighting that night,” Mark lets out finally.

“Then how did you scrape up your hands so badly?”

“We were—” Mark begins, but is interrupted by a gentle knock at his door, and Jaehyun peeks his head in.

“I’m taking first watch tonight. The both of you need to get sleep.” The way Jaehyun says it sounds more like an invitation than an order, so he doesn’t argue when Yukhei is ushered out of his room without them having finished their conversation. He doesn’t argue when his eyelids are heavier than he realized, and they slip shut without too much difficulty for the first time in weeks.

Mark awakes later, and for a moment believes that it is morning: there’s a warm glow being cast around his chambers that looks like the sunshine filtering through the glass doors of his cabin for a moment until he realizes something.

Sunshine doesn’t flicker.

Mark rubs the sleep out of his eyes and he slips on his boots and coat, dashing outside of his quarters and onto the deck to see the mainmast of _The Empress_ engulfed in flames. He rushed to the edge of the deck, leaning over the railing far enough to make out a rowboat on the lagoon, making its way back towards shore. From what Mark can tell, it’s a subset of the same men that tried to attack the ship earlier in the day, and he feels his blood boil with anger.

He turns around and takes the steps up to the helm two at a time, and curses aloud when he sees Jaehyun knocked out cold, slumped over the wheel with broken glass shards on the deck around him. One of the men had probably smashed a bottle over his head, taking him by surprise.

“Get up!” Mark yells as loud as he can, knowing his voice will carry through the bowls of the ship if he projects enough, surely waking the rest of the crew up. “We have to get out of here now! Yukhei! Kun! Taeil! Yuta!” He calls them by name, not by title, in hopes that that they will understand more quickly that this is severe.

Mark has to get them out from below deck before the mainmast falls and they’re trapped below deck of a burning ship, but he also has to deal with Jaehyun. Mark grits his teeth, hoisting Jaehyun up and over his shoulder because it’s clear that the taller man isn’t going to wake up and help Mark out any time soon, and with some difficulty, brings him down the stairs. Mark grimaces when he lets Jaehyun topple into a rowboat with minimal finesse, but he doesn’t have the time to worry about that—not with the rigging and the mizzenmast adopting the beginnings of their own flames as well.

Just then, Yuta and Kun scramble up from below deck, looking dazed and a little confused, followed by Yukhei who is carrying Taeil because the shorter man is coughing so hard.

“Go load up the boat! Secure yourselves and Jaehyun while I go grab some things!” Mark instructs.

“I’ll go back below and grab what I can as well!” Yuta calls, disappearing back down the ladder before Mark can protest.

Yukhei nods them both on, so he sprints back to his cabin and puts everything important that he can think of into a sack. It is important documents mostly: bit of communication to and from England, personal letters between him and his father, specific papers that will pardon Haechan and his crew if they follow through with the end of their deal, as well as several assorted personal effects. He snatches his sword, compass, and gun from where he hung them up and heads back out to the main deck again.

Mark runs to the boat and everyone is ready to depart, Yuta now seated with some extra clothes by the looks of it, as well as the crew’s weapons, some of Taeil’s research documents, and flasks of drinking water.

Mark tosses his bag into the boat and begins to lower it down, intending to use a rope to swing down and join them once the rowboat is on the lagoon, but Yukhei swears, groping around his neck for something that isn’t there.

“Mark,” he looks up with wide, panicked eyes, “I don’t have my key.”

The key that Yukhei is talking about is a little silver thing threaded onto a string of leather that he was given by a childhood friend—someone he has made it his life mission to find, or at least find out what happened to. Mark has never been able to get Yukhei to tell him the child’s name, and all he knows is that the key means more to Yukhei than anything else in the world and it would completely devastate him to his very soul if he ever lost the key.

This is why Mark doesn’t hesitate for a second to shuck off his coat and toss it into the boat.

“I’ll go grab it.”

“No!” Yukhei protests, but is weighed own by Taeil’s body as well as Mark’s bag, so he can’t get up in time before Mark starts lowering the rowboat into the lagoon.

“I’ll catch up!” he calls down, barely making sure the boat hits the water before turning his back and seeing that the flames have started to lick their way onto the deck.

Mark slides down the ladder, not even bothering to use the rungs to maximize the time he has to look. He knows where Yukhei’s hammock is—the man refuses to sleep in a bed in the quarters specifically designed for a first mate, or even to share Mark’s cabin when he offered—so he starts there, rooting through everything until he sees the glint of a key.

The necklace is hanging up on a bent nail just above where his hammock is tied. Mark snatches is, putting it around his neck as he clambers back up the ladder. He gets out from below deck just in time for the mainmast to fall across the exit.

Mark stumbles with the crash, almost falling off of the side of the ship. He takes a look back the _The Empress_ : his home for the past four years, his precious ship that carried Hansol before he was killed, the one where he had bonded with his first crew, and the one that he will always hold the closest to his heart. 

“Mark!” There is a shout from behind him. It is Yukhei. “The foremast!”

There is a twist in his gut when he hears the creak of the foremast, so he turns, his eyes widening in horror to see it tipping down, right toward him. Mark turns back toward the lagoon without a second thought, climbs up onto the railing, and dives right off.

The impact of the water doesn’t hurt since Mark has decent diving form, but what _does_ hurt is a part of the foremast that cracked off falling right on top of him in the freezing cold water. The mast hits his back, forcing him farther underwater, and the rigging that is still connected casts over his body, tangling him up.

Mark’s head goes fuzzy, dark spots dancing in his vision. His lungs scream for air as he frantically tries to disentangle himself from the rope, his muscles burning with the effort.

But then there is a force tugging the rigging away; he feels two hands wrap under his arms and pull him up toward the surface. Mark tries to hold on, he knows that he is saved, but he can’t.

He lets the cold lagoon water fill his lungs and then there’s nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact #2: imagining yukhei with a british accent put me Through It  
> fun fact #3: so mark has had multiple losses of crew members aboard his ship, hansol being the most recent, and can never bring himself to replace any of them... that's why he brings up the three deaths and not just the one  
> fun fact #4: apparently i can't write a damn chapter of this without a cliffhanger of some sort so here we go again :)


	6. Sharing is Caring Unless it Comes to Ships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have realized that i wrote my mermaid fic based on how i WISH this chapter had gone  
> but alas,,, we have a ways to go before that :D

**PRESENT DAY - Lee Donghyuck**

**Tortuga**

* * *

 

Mark Lee is a lot heavier than Donghyuck anticipates.

He expects him to be as light and lithe as he remembers young Mark being, but this Mark is pure muscle and waterlogged clothing, which means that Donghyuck struggles a lot more to bring him up to the surface.

It also doesn’t help that he’s completely passed out and not helping at all, which Donghyuck is tempted to be annoyed at for a moment before he realizes that Mark _isn’t breathing_. He grits his teeth and gives one last strong kick of his legs, propelling them up to the surface.

Donghyuck heaves a couple of breaths, pulling Mark over his back, and swims as fast as he can to the nearest portion of the beach. Donghyuck doesn’t even have to look back to tell that _The Empress_ is in the process of being completely incinerated, the flames intruding upon the night sky, their reflections dancing far across the glassy water.

Even with as efficient of a swimmer that Donghyuck is, having a human on his back that just about doubles his weight really slows him down. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since Mark stopped moving on his own, but he knows that if he doesn’t move quickly, the admiral is going to die.

Donghyuck’s toes touch sand at last, and he nearly trips over himself hauling Mark up onto the soft-sanded beach that surrounds the lagoon. He can tell that Mark’s crew is on their way over because of the increasing proximity of their shouts, but he doesn’t have the time to wait for him.

He lays Mark down on the cool sand so his face is up, and it’s still abundantly clear that he’s not breathing: his skin is deathly pale and his lips have started to turn blue, but Donghyuck sure as hell is not giving up yet.

He takes a moment to remember what he had seen Renjun do in the past, and even Xiumin before him, and takes a deep breath before he places his hands together over the center of Mark’s chest and pushes are hard as he can.

It doesn’t work, so Donghyuck tries it again, harder; this time it does work.

Mark jerks up, turning on his side to cough up a lungful of water. Donghyuck sighs and lets himself flop back onto the sand, facing the stars and letting his adrenaline rush wear off. He hears Mark mumble something incoherent, but he just hums in response, blinking his eyes slowly as the exhaustion settles into his bones.

He cranes his head up to see the _Helios_ at the entrance to the lagoon, five silhouettes all standing at the helm in varying states of wakefulness. Donghyuck doesn’t sleep very much, so he had volunteered to stay and take first watch while everyone else went to bed.

From where the _Helios_ had been docked, he had seen the group of men with torches all make their way down towards the lagoon, and he had acted immediately. He had called up everyone from below deck, hoisted sail, and swung the ship around to the lagoon just in time to see the mainmast collapse onto the ship.

He had seen the small rowboat floating away from the ship, but it only had five passengers inside, not the six he had been anticipating. There was a yell from the rowboat and a crack from _The Empress_ , and Donghyuck was already taking off his boots and jacket before he saw the figure dive off of the side of the ship, just in time for the foremast to break and fall over the side of it just behind them.

Jisung had yelled at Donghyuck to stop, but he was already diving off the railing of the _Helios_ and swimming over to burning wreckage of _The Empress_. He is a fast swimmer, easily the fastest amongst his own crew, but for the second time in his life, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be fast enough.

Donghyuck had made it to the mess in the water consisting of rigging and shards of the mast in time to see someone struggling beneath the heavy rope. Without a second of hesitation, he had taken a deep breath and gone under.

Unsurprisingly, it had been Mark who was the last off of the ship and who was trying to untangle his long limbs from the rigging that had snared him underwater. Donghyuck yanked it off of him and had only begun to propel them to the surface when Mark became a dead weight in his arms, which brings them to where they are now: Mark coughing up a gallon of water and Donghyuck still trying to catch his breath, lying side by side on the beach of a lagoon in Tortuga.

Life is crazy sometimes.

“H’chan?” Mark chokes the name out as he turns to see who his rescuer is.

“Good evening, Mark,” Donghyuck says back, a bit dryly. “How lovely to see you here.”

“Why did you…?” He leaves the question open-ended, but Donghyuck is more than capable of filling in that blank.

“You saved my life once, I saved yours. We’re square.” Donghyuck pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I don’t like owing people.”

“How did you know it was me?” Mark’s voice is rough and low, the inside of his throat rubbed raw from the saltwater and the coughing.

“I didn’t.” He shrugs, which just makes Mark blink in confusion.

“If you didn’t know it was me when why did you come?”

“If it _was_ you, my debt to you would be settled, and if it _wasn’t_ you, that just means someone else would owe me,” Donghyuck explains, stretching his arms over his head and shaking the excess water from his hair. “It was a win-win situation for me.”

“So it was for your own personal benefit?” Mark scoffs, running his fingers through the fine-grained sand.

“Pirate.” He lifts his shoulders, reminding Mark of who he is.

“I’m well aware of that little tidbit.” Mark sits up, leaning back on his hands and turning his head to see the other man sitting next to him.

“I’m also a pirate that you have to work with, so I advise that we at least _try_ to keep civil with one another.” There’s a moment of silence between them, almost a gesture of peace for the time being until Donghyuck flops back down onto the beach with a thud, a small groan leaving his lips. “You’re so _heavy_.”

“I am _not_!” Mark gasps, almost comically in Donghyuck’s opinion, narrowing his eyes. “You’re just small!”

“Shut up. I’m probably less than a finger-width shorter than you.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re small.”

“Well at least I’m not the idiot who dove off the side of his ship with his boots still on,”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice!” Mark throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I didn’t have the time to worry about that! And besides, either they’d be on my feet or on fire right now, and honestly I’d rather that they—”

“Mark!” Both Donghyuck’s and Mark’s heads whip around to see Yukhei running down the beach, full tilt straight toward them.

“Commodore, I’m fine,” Mark tries to brush him off, but he just barrels forward, engulfing Mark in a suffocating hug that makes Donghyuck laugh.

“Like hell you are,” the taller man speaks into Mark’s hair. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t, though. I’m still here.” Mark is still desperately trying to wiggle out of his grip in a manner that makes it look like he’s a flailing kitten in its mother’s embrace. He snorts out loud at the comparison, and sends him a grin when Mark glares.

Donghyuck takes a chance to look over behind Yukhei and Mark to see the rest of his crew still in the boat, their eyes all flitting about one member who has his head in his hands.

“What happened?”

“Jaehyun took first watch at the helm. Got jumped,” Mark explains. “Hit over the head with a bottle and knocked out cold.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck whistles softly through his teeth; he knows firsthand how much that hurts. “What’s your plan now?”

Mark finally gets Yukhei to let go of him so he can flop back down on the sand and heave a breath.

“I don’t know,” he purses his lips. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly.”

Donghyuck has to choke down the urge to make fun of him because Mark looks so _exhausted_ that even he finds it hard to want to provoke his enemy—if that was even still the right description. Instead, he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loud and clear, the sound slicing through the sticky silence of the humid night air.

Seconds later, the splash of a rowboat dropping into the water resounds across the lagoon; Donghyuck can see from the corner of his eye that Mark jumps at the sound. Turning his focus back to the water, he squints to try and make out who was in the boat. The lone figure is too lanky to be Jeno, but Donghyuck can clearly see Jisung standing atop the crow’s nest, which means that it must be Jaemin.

“What is going on?” Mark pipes up, scooting into Donghyuck’s line of vision.

“Well you certainly aren’t going to stay on Tortuga…” he trails off, leaving Mark to clue himself in. Which he doesn’t. He just stares back at him with a confused expression, mouth beginning to part slightly so he can, presumably, ask Donghyuck what the hell he means by that.

“We’re going back to the  _Helios_ ,” he says instead. As the words pour from his lips, his eyes begin to light up with understanding.

“Take it or leave it,” Donghyuck tells him, standing up to brush the sand off of his pants. “I won’t be around forever.”

Mark opens his mouth again, presumably to argue, but Yukhei reaches forward and covers the admiral’s mouth with his abnormally large palm and smiles politely.

“We gratefully thank you for your hospitality, captain.”

Donghyuck nods at him, choosing not to comment on Mark’s aversion to joining his crew. Instead, he walks forward just a few feet into the water to help pull Jaemin’s rowboat ashore.

“We can take some of your things back with us so you have room in your boat for the admiral,” Jaemin offers, stepping gingerly out onto the sand. He grimaces lightly as his foot sinks in, most likely thinking about all of the sand he is going to have to shake out of his boots later.

“That would be great.” Yukhei stands, releasing Mark. “I’ll go grab some things.”

Yukhei starts back off along the beach, but Mark remains sitting on the ground, combing through the sand at his sides with his fingers absently. Donghyuck can’t help but draw the comparison between Mark and a young kitten once again because of how lost and adorable he looks, tilting his head in confusion, eyes wide and shining with the reflection of the stars dancing across them.

“But why?” he asks.

“We have a deal, Admiral, and I intend to hold to it,” he responds, looking away as soon as Yukhei returns with several bundles in his arms which he tosses into Jaemin’s outstretched hands without hesitation. Donghyuck spins on his bare heel, making a little circular indent in the soft sand as he strides back to the rowboat just behind Jaemin. He pushes it off from shore without a glance backward, hopping in with surprising grace for how much his muscles hurt.

Jaemin says a total of three words to Donghyuck on their way back to the  _Helios_.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks,” the captain snarks back, ignoring the chill of the night air against the wet fabric of the clothing still stuck to his skin.

He ends up getting helped up first after tossing the extra items up to Jeno. The moment Donghyuck hoists himself up onto the deck, Jisung is there with a towel, wrapping it around his shoulders. He flashes the younger a tight smile, but shakes off his doting the moment Jeno and Chenle begin to haul up the crew of _The Empress_ from their own rowboat.

Donghyuck ruffles his hair with the towel, ending up getting rid of more sand than excess moisture. He tosses the towel back to Jisung as he picks his jacket up from where he had dropped it on the deck before diving into the lagoon earlier. Tugging the jacket over his shoulders and pulling it closely around his torso, he makes the decision to forego his boots for now as Yukhei’s head peeks over the edge of the deck.

One by one, Mark’s crew is immediately welcomed down into the hold, where the _Helios_ crew sleeps, to put their things away and rest for the remainder of the night. Yukhei and a still-sopping-wet Mark, however, stay up at the helm with Donghyuck and Jeno after everyone else has gone below deck.

“Are there terms to us saying here?” Mark asks finally, the silence between the four having dragged on a touch too long. He shivers and Jeno takes pity on him, leaving for a moment to grab a towel from Donghyuck’s quarters. He’d have a word with Jeno about _that_ decision later.

“Yes, but they’re simple,” Donghyuck says, watching Mark peel the jacket off of his shoulders, replacing it with the towel. “Both Mark and I will hold authority over our own crews, but if our orders conflict, I have the final say. We will act as one entity to the best of our ability and if all else fails, the survival of the crew as a whole is the most important.”

“I can live with that,” Mark responds after a moment of deliberation, biting his lip. “Should we write this down? We can use our signatures to agree to the terms that will bind us and—”

The Admiral is unceremoniously interrupted but Donghyuck and Jeno laughing.

“You Brits and your _contracts_ ,” Jeno snorts, slapping Yukhei’s shoulder with enough force to make him startle forward.

“We’re _pirates_ , Admiral,” Donghyuck grins. “We shake on it and hold it to our honor.”

“But if you’re pirates, doesn’t that cancel out the honor?” Mark looks a little too proud of his remark; Donghyuck loses his smile.

“You don’t know anything about us,” he snarls. “Don’t pretend to.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Yukhei widens his eyes, placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder, most likely to hold him back. “It’s been a long day and we all need some rest.”

“We don’t have enough room for both of you below,” Jeno leans back against the railing, narrowing his eyes between Mark and Yukhei. “We only have one more open hammock.”

There is a moment where Donghyuck can tell that Jeno’s soft side is about to win out and declare that one of them can use his hammock, so he steps in before his second can make any rash decisions.

“Mark can stay with me in the captain’s quarters, since we’re supposed to be acting as equals and all that,” he sighs, waving a hand.

“I don’t know if I want to—” Mark starts to protest, but Donghyuck raises his hands.

“I almost never sleep in there anyway, so it’s going to be like having a room of your own.” Jeno’s frown at his words is obvious, but Donghyuck ignores it in favor of ushering them to bed. “We have a long day tomorrow, and I’ll stay at the helm overnight to make sure there isn’t a repeat of _The Empress Incident_.”

“I hate that name,” Mark mumbles, but lets Donghyuck continue.

“I’ll alert Mark immediately if there’s any sign of a return of the men from earlier, but if we set sail now, we shouldn’t have that problem.”

The other three each agree to the plan, albeit a bit reluctantly by Jeno. He stays on deck long enough to make sure that Donghyuck doesn’t need any help getting the ship turned around and headed in the direction of Pearl Bay before he goes below, leading Yukhei. Mark disappears into the captain’s cabin to rest. At least, Donghyuck hopes he is going to rest.

As soon as everyone is out of sight, Donghyuck finally registers how tired he is. He slumps himself over the wheel, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. The moment they shut, however, he sees images of fire and blood and black water imprinted on the back of his lids and he gasps, snapping his eyes back open.

“Hyuck?” There’s a soft voice coming from the base of the stairs that lead to the helm. Donghyuck looks over and sees none other than his Jisung standing there, hair ruffled and eyes half open.

“Hey, Sungie.”

“It’s getting close to that time of year again, isn’t it?” He slowly walks up the stairs, hand skimming over the polished railing. Donghyuck swallows, nodding.

He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack.

“The memories just get worse every time around, don’t they?” Jisung asks. Donghyuck knows better than to respond. They both know what the answer is.

The younger sluggishly approaches his captain, gently wrapping his arms around Donghyuck’s waist, pressing himself into his back just gently enough that he doesn't hurt his scar. He plants a kiss in Donghyuck’s hair before resting his chin lightly on his shoulder.

“How well is this going to work out?” Jisung murmurs the question into the collar of Donghyuck’s jacket.

“I have no idea.” Donghyuck lets himself relax into his best friend’s grasp, something he would never do around, or with, anyone else.

There is silence for a long moment, then. It is just Donghyuck and Jisung at the helm, letting the gentle breeze caress their cheeks and sift through their hair. The _Helios_ glides smoothly through the glassy water, slicing through the miniscule waves with no resistance.

Everything is calm and Donghyuck revels in it.

“What is going on in your head, Hyuck?” the younger finally questions, breaking the quiet. “You’re not letting me in.”

“Even I don’t know what is going on in here,” Donghyuck sighs, defeated as he taps a finger to his temple. “I couldn’t let you in if I tried.”

Another bout of silence.

“Get some sleep, Donghyuck,” Jisung speaks so gently that even with his mouth right next to his ear, he barely catches what the younger says. “Please.”

“I can’t make that promise, Sungie—”

“Then promise me that you’ll try.”

A heavy sigh.

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” Jisung unlatches himself from Donghyuck, placing his hands over Donghyuck’s that still grip the wheel. “I’m going back to bed now. I think Chenle is waiting.”

“Of course he is.” He lifts a hand to ruffle Jisung’s already mussed hair. “Sleep well, Jisungie.” He presses a kiss to the bare skin of Jisung’s shoulder where his sleep shirt has slid down before ushering him away.

“You too, Hyuck.”

With that, Jisung disappears back down below deck, and Donghyuck finds himself alone with his thoughts and the open ocean. At some point over the night, he leaves the wheel to sneak into his cabin so he could grab a change of clothes, but is met with a sight that he isn’t quite expecting instead.

Mark has taken one of the blankets from Donghyuck’s bed and curled up under it on the floor, using the towel that Jeno had given him as a makeshift pillow. Donghyuck has to suppress a snort at how utterly _polite_ Mark Lee is.

With a bit of effort, he manages to lift Mark into the bed, internally amused at what heavy of a sleeper he is, but knows that having near-death experiences can really tire someone out. Throwing an extra blanket thrown over the top of the admiral-shaped lump on the bed, Donghyuck exits the room adorned with changed clothes, a small smile, and an odd feeling in his chest.

He knows what it is, and he doesn’t like it. Emotions are the most dangerous thing someone can have, and Donghyuck isn’t about to shoot himself in the chest because of them. He slips his boots back on and goes back to the helm, checking his compass intermittently to make sure the _Helios_ is still headed in the right direction.

Donghyuck finds himself letting his mind wander as the sun begins to creep over the horizon, spilling pinks and oranges and golds onto the smooth surface of the sea and leaking onto the deck of the ship.

The sun’s rays spread across the deck, lapping at the toes of his boots and Donghyuck smiles to himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as his crew had been warning him. Maybe this could end up turning out alright, with Pearl Bay being avenged and Taeyong dealt with accordingly.

His thoughts flow back to Mark before Donghyuck can stop them, and he realizes that it might be a good thing that they’re stuck together. It is distinctly possible that he wouldn’t be able to do this alone and _The Empress_ crew might just be the key to unraveling everything.

Donghyuck can almost sense his father’s journal trying to burn a hole in his jacket, reminding him of why he is doing this. Why he became what he did. Why he made the decisions that he did. Yet for a second, he disregards everything his father wrote, and lets himself live in the moment.

He isn’t sure if it is because of the extra six people on the  _Helios_ or not, but he finds himself not feeling as alone as he has for so long, but most of all, he finds himself feeling hope for the first time in years.

With the sun on his face, the wind at his back, his crew below deck and his head in the clouds, Donghyuck lets himself taste the tiniest bit of freedom that he had been searching for over all these years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contrary to popular belief, i AM capable of writing a chapter without a cliffhanger


	7. Multilingual Catastrophes and Other Assorted Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha i wrote 90% of this when i should have been studying for the APUSH test,,, but i used the justification that it happened in the past to make me feel a little less guilty  
> i have zero regrets tho

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**Aboard the** ** _Helios,_ ** **Somewhere at Sea**

* * *

Mark has no idea what time it is when he is awoken, quite rudely might he add, by incessant pounding. He blinks his eyes open carefully and nearly falls over when he sinks back into a mattress instead of propping himself up on the deck that he _knows_ fell asleep on. 

There is no logical reasoning as to how he got there, but his neck and shoulders are thankful nonetheless. Mark doesn’t even have the time to dwell on it before the door to the captain’s cabin bursts open, Renjun leading the way and dragging a frowning Haechan behind him.

Renjun stops short when he sees Mark on the bed, tangled up in the blankets, but Haechan only snorts in amusement when he sees Mark’s disheveled hair and wide eyes. Renjun raises an eyebrow, looking between Mark and the floor before turning to Haechan, who simply shrugs.

Mark knows that they’re communicating through the actions, but doesn’t know how to discern them.

“Good morning, Mark,” Renjun says finally. “Now get out.”

“Renjun, at least—” Haechan starts, but the smaller just shakes his head.

“We have things to take care of, so you need to leave the cabin,” Renjun states, his voice holding no remorse for kicking Mark out of bed. At least Haechan looks vaguely apologetic.

Mark barely has the time to grab his coat from where he had folded it over the back of the desk chair before he is unceremoniously booted from the room and sent stumbling out onto the main deck, blinking his eyes in the bright sunlight.

Renjun closes the doors to the cabin with a flourish, drawing a curtain across them so Mark can’t see through the glass. There is a moment of muffled arguing before it goes silent and Mark gives up trying to figure out what is going on.

The crew member that Mark doesn’t recognize comes up behind him, brushing his dark hair off of his forehead with a blinding smile.

“Renjun is stubborn, but so is Haechan, so they butt heads a lot,” he sighs. “But Renjun’s just trying to help.”

“Help what?” Mark asks, but the boy clams up the moment he realizes what he said, so Mark switches tactics. “What is your name?”

“Ah, I’m Jaemin,” he says, sticking out his hand for Mark to shake. “I wasn’t there the last time our crew had the pleasure of running into yours.” The hint of resentment isn’t lost on Mark, but he chooses to overlook it.

“That explains why I didn’t recognize you.”

Jaemin hums in acknowledgement and silence follows. Mark figures that he should learn to get used to painfully awkward silences between him and the _Helios_ crew, especially after what he did the last time they ran into each other.

Mark puts his coat on, vaguely registering that Jisung is standing at the wheel before Jeno stumbles up from below deck, rubbing his eyes.

“Min?” His voice is thick with sleep and he clears his throat before he continues. “Where’s Jun? What’s going on?”

“Renjun decided that this was a fine morning to piss off our Captain,” Jaemin spares a glance at Mark’s disheveled state. “Both of our captains, actually.”

Jeno hums something under his breath that Mark is somewhat okay with not hearing. Chenle scrambles up to the main deck a few moments later.

“Why is everyone so loud this morning?” His whining isn’t doing any favors for the headache Mark can feel coming on.

He forgets all about his own pains when he spots Yukhei helping Jaehyun up, the latter rubbing his head groggily.

“Jaehyun!” Mark rushes over. “How are you? How badly does it hurt? What can I—”

“With all due respect, Admiral, you can shut up,” Jaehyun murmurs, and Mark laughs, glad to see that he at least has his humor back. “I’m pretty sure I can hear colors now, but my heart is still beating, so I’d say I’m fine.”

Yuta, who Mark didn’t see join them, claps Jaehyun’s shoulder with such force that he stumbles forward.

“If you died, I personally would have resurrected you just to kill you again for abandoning me.”

“Thanks?” Jaehyun makes a face at Yuta, his response more of a question than a statement.

“Has anyone filled you in on what happened last night?” Mark asks Jaehyun gently after Yuta has gone off to bother Yukhei.

Jaehyun looks around the deck, finally registering that he isn’t on _The Empress_ and that the crew of the  _Helios_ is all staring at him curiously.

“No,” he squeaks when Jaemin winks at him, earning a slap on the back of the head from a disgruntled Jeno. Just then, Kun arrives with Taeil in tow, grumbling something in Mandarin that Mark only half understands because he hasn’t been keeping up with his fluency as well as he wishes he has.

There’s a gasp from behind Mark and it turns out to come from Chenle, whose eyes are wide, staring at Kun in disbelief. He starts to speak back in Mandarin and Kun looks much more awake all of a sudden.

Mark is not to the point in his morning where his brain can function fast enough to keep up with foreign language, and gives up trying to comprehend their rapidfire conversation approximately seven words in.

“Do you have any idea what they’re saying?” Jaehyun leans over to Mark, but he just shrugs helplessly.

“Probably.”

Yuta has a rather amused expression on his face a couple of paces away, most likely understanding what was being said but is simply choosing not to comment on it. Mark makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

All of a sudden, the doors to the cabin are thrown open, revealing a fuming Renjun.

“What is going on out here?”

Behind him, Mark can just barely make out Haechan pulling a shirt on over his head on the background, leaving Mark to wonder exactly what the two of them were doing in there. Mark has a mere second to be thankful that his mind doesn’t dwell on Haechan’s sculpted bare torso before the multilingual commotion on the deck gets overwhelming.

Haechan steps out of the cabin as the ruckus swells to a dull roar, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders. The moment he is in sight of everyone, the deck goes to quiet a pin could have been dropped somewhere in the lower deck and Mark is positive that he would have heard it.

“What in the King’s—” Jaehyun exhales the words out audibly.

“Jaehyun,” Mark snaps, keeping him from finishing the exclamation.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m glad that you’re all present as I have a few announcements,” Haechan begins. “Makeshift negotiations were held last night between Mark, Yukhei, Jeno and Me. Both Mark and I have jurisdiction over our respective crews, but if our commands ever conflict, mine holds greater authority. Otherwise, we will act as one crew, one entity, and make it through the rest of this in one piece. The crews come first before anything else.”

Everyone nods in understanding and Haechan dismisses them. Mark takes the time to fill Jaehyun in on the situation and how they got here because he is getting quite sick of the helpless look in his eye—it doesn’t suit one of his most knowledgeable men very well.

“Yukhei, Yuta,” Mark approaches them, Jaehyun following closely but still trying to full wrap his head around the situation. “What were they talking about?”

“I think they were both just excited that they speak the language and were surprised about it, and when Renjun—that _is_ his name, right?—came out, the excitement just grew exponentially,”  Yukhei explained. “I don’t think there was anything of importance being discussed.”

Mark glances up at the helm to see Haechan taking the wheel from Jisung, the two bending their heads over the captain’s compass. Haechan happens to look up at that exact moment to see Mark staring at him, and snaps his compass shut, turning his attention back to correcting their course.

Thankfully, Jisung looks just as confused as Mark feels, peering between him and Haechan with a raised brow over the exchange. Mark throws his hands up in defeat, giving up on trying to decipher anything that goes on aboard this damn ship.

The rest of the day goes without confrontation for the most part, other than Haechan not letting Mark take the helm overnight, forcing him to go get some sleep because he “looks like death walking, Mark, and I’m not overly fond of having the dead captain my bloody ship.”

It’s only on the second full night on the  _Helios_ that Haechan finally lets Mark take over the helm. It doesn’t happen without pushback from Jeno, but when Haechan gives the final order to allow it to happen, Jeno, though still glowering, backs off.

As if to add insult to injury, Haechan commands that Jeno has to stay up as well to watch over Mark. That little command comes with complaint from both Mark and Jeno.

“ _What_?” Mark exclaims, turning back to Haechan.

“I refuse to nanny him,” comes Jeno’s equally spitting response.

“I’m captain of this ship so my orders overrule both of your petty complaints.” Haechan doesn’t flinch once at the two scowling men before him as he face Mark. “Now do you want to man the helm tonight or not?”

A moment of deliberation precedes the smallest of nods from Mark.

“Great. So take the wheel.” He turns to Jeno. “And I fully expect you to not shirk your duty the moment I leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, captain.” Jeno rolls his eyes the moment Haechan begins to descend the stairs.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Jeno,” Haechan warns. Mark is a little impressed because Haechan didn’t even see it happen.

“Again,” Jeno sighs, giving another exaggerated eye roll in Mark's direction. “Wouldn’t dream of it, captain.”

Mark snorts, but Haechan lets it go without another word, heading into the captain’s quarters, closing the doors with a definitive click.

Jeno doesn’t try to speak to Mark, and to be perfectly frank, he is more than okay with that. They stand there in silence for minutes, hours, Mark doesn’t know anymore. He gives up keeping track of how long it is as the stars twinkle overhead and the waves opening up easily as the hull of the  _Helios_ glides through them.

He knows that if they stay on course and the wind keeps up, they’re on track to reach Pearl Bay in roughly four days’ time. Mark sighs, gripping the wheel a little harder to ground himself.

Four more days. He doesn’t know how much longer it will be from there, but he thinks he can handle four days.

He opens his mouth at long last to ask Jeno a question about the ship, but the doors to the captain’s cabin creaking open below stop Mark before any words can leave his lips.

Haechan slips out of the cabin, carefully closing the doors behind him before he steals across the main deck to the rigging, scaling it so quickly that Mark is sure he would have missed it if he blinked. He then disappears up into the crow’s nest.

Mark looks back at Jeno for an explanation, but the man has fallen asleep, sitting on the deck with his back slumped against the railing. Mark decides that he likes it when Jeno is asleep because he is a lot less intimidating, so he leaves him there and carries on at the wheel for the rest of the night.

Over the next two nights, the events are nearly the same.

Mark stands attention at the helm, hands never leaving the wheel while Jeno either sleeps or sits behind him, waiting patiently for Haechan’s seemingly nightly routine of escaping up to the crow’s nest and not to be seen again until the next morning.

The routine only changes on the fourth night when Yukhei joins Mark at the helm. Jeno resumes his normal post as the resident gargoyle, but neither Mark nor Yukhei pay him any mind. They simply find comfort within each other and the conversations they share.

Mark and Yukhei talk, but it’s all mindless chatter to keep the silence from growing too loud. Jeno is leaning back against the railing, sulking since Haechan made him watch over the other two instead of spending time with his boyfriends. Or at least Mark assumes that the three of them are boyfriends. He doesn’t really want to ask.

Yukhei pulls out his compass, making sure that they are still on course as Mark turns the wheel to the left a few degrees to the left to continue heading toward Pearl Bay.

“Mark, I was wondering—” Yukhei begins to say something, but Mark hears the door to the captain’s cabin click open and shushes him. He watches a sliver of candlelight dance across the deck before it is blown out, and Mark can just barely hear the door shut.

Haechan either doesn’t realize Mark and Yukhei are at the helm, or just doesn’t care, because he treads lightly across the deck to the rigging on the side. He grips it, hoisting himself around the railing and scaling the rigging with a type of grace that Mark can only wish to possess.

A moment later, Haechan disappears up into the crow’s nest and Mark releases the breath he has been holding.

“What was that about?” Yukhei whispers, craning his neck up.

“I don’t know,” Mark murmurs back. “I’ve seen him do it for the past few nights.”

“He doesn’t do anything up there, in case you’re wondering,” Jeno speaks from behind them, but doesn’t look up from the rope he is tying and untying deftly with his fingers. “It’s become a habit of his, and we’ve collectively decided to not question it.”

“A habit?” Mark questions. “So how long as he been doing it?”

“Jisung says that he never did anything like that on _The Eve_ ,” Jeno shrugs. “But that’s all I know.”

It only takes Mark a moment of deliberation before he is stepping away from the wheel, leaving Yukhei in his place. He starts down the stairs from the helm before the Commodore calls him back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yukhei hisses.

“I’m going up to check on him,” Mark explains.

“Your funeral.” Jeno lifts his head up from the rope to make eyes contact with Mark. “The last time someone bothered him when he went up there was Chenle, and he was scared to go near Haechan for the next week.”

“I’m not scared.” Mark raises an eyebrow. Jeno just lifts his hands.

“Just saying, pal. You might wanna think this one through.”

“I have thought it through,” Mark insists, “and I’m going up there.”

“Like I said,” Jeno says, lowering his gaze back to the knot in his hands, “your funeral.”

Mark frowns as he turns around to descend the stairs. Jeno’s words manage to occupy his mind all the way up the rigging and until he peeks over the edge of the floor to see Haechan sitting with his back to the mast, curled up and reading a small book of sorts.

“What are you up to?” Mark asks, and Haechan nearly jumps. He snaps the book shut and tucks it behind his back so it is pinned between his spine and the mast.

“Nothing much.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t pry. He doesn’t doubt Haechan’s ability to push him off of the rigging, so he pulls himself up into the nest, nearly tumbling inside when he almost loses his footing. He sits on the opposite side of the mast, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back resting on the mast, facing the opposite direction as Haechan.

“Jeno told me that this is a regular occurence,” Mark says finally. “You coming up here at night, that is.”

A scoff.

“Jeno should learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“He’s just looking out for you, Haechan,” Mark points out, and is met with stifling silence for a long moment.

“I know,” he finally breathes out in reply. “I just wish he didn’t care so much sometimes.”

“Why is that? Aren’t you all like family?” Mark is genuinely confused and he knows it shows through his voice.

“We are!” Haechan is quick to reassure, but his words get less confident. “It’s just that… well…” he trails off, a thunk sounding from the other side of the mast leaving Mark to guess that Haechan has just let his head drop against the wood. Mark is fully aware that he shouldn’t continue to ask about the topic, but he can’t help himself.

“It’s just that what?”

“I had another family once,” Haechan sighs. “Not a real one but the closest thing to a family that I ever had, and it all got taken away from me so quickly… I’ve just learned that I shouldn’t get too attached to anyone or anything in this life because it will only bring me more pain.”

“The crew of _The Eve_?” Mark guesses, hoping Haechan can’t hear Mark’s heart clenching for him. He doesn’t. He just sucks in an audible breath.

“Yeah.”

“Look,” Mark scoots around on the wooden paneling until he is matching gazes with Haechan. “Just because it happened once, doesn’t mean it will happen again. It’s better to love what you have when you have it than to realize you lost everything without ever having loved it at all.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Haechan’s eyes dance with confusion. Mark gives a long exhale, settling down with his legs stretched out across the nest and his beck pressed to the outer wall next to Haechan’s boots as he tries to figure out how to explain it.

“Do you regret loving your old crew? Do you regret any of the time you spent bonding with them, or any of the memories you have with them, both the good and the bad?” Mark hopes that makes sense, but it must because Haechan shakes his head after a moment, brow furrowing. “The same thing should apply to this crew, then. They’re your brothers, your _family_ , just as _The Eve_ was. You’re allowed to show that you care.”

Haechan squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, releasing a slow breath.

“You’re right.”

“I am?” Mark is taken aback. He has been bracing himself for the inevitable teasing that was to come in response to something as sappy as that, but it never comes.

“Don’t sound so surprised, captain,” Haechan cracks his eyes open.

“ _Admiral_.” Mark grits his teeth. That was much closer to the reaction he has been expecting.

“Your rank in the British fleet hold no significance here.” He grins lazily. “You’re a captain as far as we are concerned.” Mark purses his lips for a moment, considering the statement before he nods his head, conceding.

“Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he says, glancing at Mark pointedly. “You shouldn’t be so utterly astounded that you’re right about this.”

“And why is that?” Mark leans forward, interested. Haechan closes his eyes again and leans his head back against the mast.

“You’re the well-educated one, remember? You’re the one who is supposed to be well-versed in all matters, but I also feel as if it isn’t just your education that has given you all of that insight.”

Mark tenses for a moment, but forces himself to relax before Haechan opens his eyes and is able to read him like an open book.

“You’re not completely wrong, I’ll give you that,” he responds nonchalantly, closing the subject off to further discussion. That draws the line at what Mark feels emotionally prepared to delve into with Haechan.

It is quiet for a moment between them, the sounds of the waves brushing against the hull are the only things audible to the two captains in the nest. At least until Haechan shifts and the book behind his back slips out of place.

“What is that?”

“Just an old journal.” Haechan is quick to answer. Almost too quick.

“And it’s not yours?” Mark takes a shot in the dark.

“Why do you say that?” Haechan looks at him curiously.

“You don’t seem like the journal-keeping type,” he answers truthfully. Haechan barks out a laugh, picking up the small book and rubbing his thumb over the cover.

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?” Haechan murmurs, but Mark is silent, simply raising an eyebrow to prompt elaboration from him. With a sigh, he obliges. “It was my father’s journal. He left it with me on the doorstep of the orphanage on Pearl Bay along with this earring.” He lightly gestures to his ear. Mark reaches forward to touch it, but pulls himself back.

“May I?”

“Be my guest,” he replies, turning his head so Mark can reach it. Mark leans forward, tucking Haechan’s hair behind his ear so he can examine the earring. He slowly traces the tips of his fingers along the coiled piece of gold metal pierced through the shell of his ear four times, once with every curve of the metal. Mark gently thumbs over it in awe.

“It’s beautiful.” Mark knows that he has examined it before, up close and personal. It was when he first met Haechan at Simon’s, but honestly, he doesn’t remember all that much of what happened that night before getting back to the barracks. The details have blurred together over the years, leaving him with only a vague outline of what happened that night and too many mixed emotions to try and count.

“It’s all I’ve got as a reminder of him besides the journal,” Haechan tells Mark slowly as he retracts his arm.

“What’s in the journal, then?”

“Stories, mostly.”

“Stories?”

“Legends and myths, as well as tales of my father’s own travels, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the two apart,” he chuckles to himself. “The last entry is about my mother, or at least I’m assuming.”

“What does it say about your mother?”

“That she died and he couldn’t bear to see me since I was her spitting image, so he gave me up.” His fingers curl around the journal. “He wrote it on the doorstep of the orphanage.”

“Oh,” Mark shrinks back. “I—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’,” Haechan nearly spits. “I’ve heard those two words too much in my lifetime.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Mark bites his lip. “I was going to say that I understand.”

“ _You_?” Haechan looks over, incredulous. “You understand losing both of your parents before you even knew them and being abandoned on an island so far away from the last living one of them that they’ll never have to face you ever again?”

“The pain never quite goes away, does it?” Mark doesn’t answer Haechan’s question, instead looking him in the eye and speaking straight from the heart. “At some point it just turns into a dull ache in the center of your chest that you can’t ignore. You feel like you’re unlovable and you can’t love anyone else because of it.”

Haechan’s mouth drops open, but Mark plows on.

“You might spend years trying to figure out where things went wrong, or if you can fix them but you eventually realize that you can’t fix anything, and you’re forced to carry on his this burden in your heart that’s inescapable. No person, no crew, no honorary brother can seal that hole in your life, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever be complete again, and the only thing you can do is blame yourself.”

Mark has long since stopped talking about Haechan’s parents, but he lets out all of his feelings for the first time since his mother died. Maybe the hole in his heart isn’t magically repaired by spilling his thoughts, but it makes his chest feel a little lighter as he stands to exit the nest, unsure if he wants to be around for Haechan’s reaction.

Before he can escape, though, a hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him back down to sit on the wooden panels, this time shoulder-to-shoulder with Haechan.

“Mark?” Haechan’s voice is cautious, unlike he has ever heard before.

“Yes?”

“Why do you know all of this? Why are you familiar with so much pain that you can make sense of mine?”

Mark smiles, but the expression must be so full of torment that Haechan takes his hand back, releasing the fabric of Mark’s sleeve.

“My life wasn’t as easy as you like to believe. I grew up with a father who was never around but always had the highest of expectations, and a mother who I loved dearly but was murdered in front of my eyes by pirates when I was six years old.”

“Where was your father? Was he a sailor?” Haechan asks. Mark shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

“No, my father was too busy being the King of England to pay any attention to his son.”

“Your father is _who_?” Haechan sits up straight while Mark shrinks down on himself, realizing what he just admitted. He groans, burying his face in his hands.

“This is why I don’t _tell_ anyone! I know that they’ll react like this and—”

“Mark.” Haechan reaches forward and pries Mark’s hands off of his face. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. I won’t treat you any differently.”

Mark looks at Haechan in scrutiny, but sees nothing but sincerity in those blue abysses of eyes.

“You swear?”

“I swear,” Haechan laughs, a little more genuine this time. Mark chews on his lip for a moment, considering his next words.

“Since you’re the only one who knows, can I talk about it?”

“I’m all ears, captain,” he nods, looking back up at the stars.

They spend the next while just talking about anything and everything, spilling secrets to each other that they haven’t thought about for years.

Mark says that his father hates having him around because he is the spitting image of his mother, not too dissimilar from Haechan’s own father. So, the King gave him the choice to join any branch of the military before he has to fulfill his duties as the Prince. Mark chose the Navy so he could be closer to his mother.

“Her eyes matched the ocean,” Mark finishes softly, glancing over at Haechan. “Not unlike yours.” Mark would swear that there was a spark in the air for a fraction of a second before Haechan looks away, back at the stars, and begins his own story.

Haechan talks about how he never actually knew his father, but the journal makes him feel as if he did. He tells Mark that the journal is written in a code that he spent the first eight years of his life trying to crack, and that the earring was actually his father’s ring. As much as Haechan wants to wear it like his father did, he is terrified of losing it, so he had Xiumin, the medic on _The Eve_ , pierce it through his ear within the first week he was aboard the ship.

By the time Mark hears Yukhei calling up to them from the main deck, both of their shoulders feel a little lighter.

“Have you two killed each other up there or what?”

“We’re fine, Yukhei!” Mark pokes his head over the side of the nest to tell him before turning back to Haechan. “I need to head back down. I don’t know how long I trust Yukhei at the helm on his own.”

“Jeno’s there too, you know,” Haechan says with a small smile, and if Mark doesn’t know any better, he would think that Haechan wants him to stay and talk for longer.

“Then it’s high time I let both of them go sleep then, isn’t it?” Mark nods, standing up to brush his trousers off. Haechan looks like he is about to argue, but a shiver wracks his body instead. Mark shrugs off his coat and places it over Haechan’s shoulders.

“Can’t have you catching a cold up here,” is his excuse to see Haechan curl up in his clothing. The other captain frowns, about ready to hand the jacket back when Mark raises his hands. “I grew up in the cold, and am probably more used to it than you.”

Haechan scoffs, but Mark doesn’t miss the fact that he wraps the coat a little tighter around him.

“Ah, London boy.”

Mark smiles and shakes his head, moving to descend from the Crow’s Nest, but he turns to look at Haechan one last time, who has looks so small under the coat.

“Captain?” Mark inquires. Haechan hums in response, tearing his attention from the journal and back to Mark. “Don’t stay up here too much longer. We’re slated to hit Pearl Bay tomorrow morning and it’s going to be a long day.” Haechan grins tiredly at him.

“Same goes for you,” he pauses, “captain.”

It can’t have been more than an hour since Mark made it back to the helm, having sent Yukhei and Jeno to sleep, when Haechan comes down from the nest. Mark’s breath is nearly taken away when he sees him still wearing his coat, his entire figure bathed in soft moonlight.

“You heading in?” Mark asks, not quite meeting Haechan’s eye when he approaches him at the helm. Haechan hums affirmatively, shucking the coat and placing it gently over Mark’s shoulders.

“Wake me up in a couple hours to come and take your place,” he commands, but his voice is without any bite, softened from exhaustion.

Mark simply nods at Haechan as he heads inside the cabin, but doesn’t end up waking him as commanded. In fact, he stays at the helm through the entire night until Yukhei comes out to take his place just as the sun breaks over the horizon, gently ushering Mark to bed.

Dead on his feet, Mark doesn’t think much of it when he flops into bed beside Haechan, letting sleep overtake him as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guessed about mark's father,,, congrats so did literally everyone else bc i suck at being subtle :D


	8. How I Met Your Honorary Mothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter is just exposition and for that i am sorry,,, it's all important tho and don't forget to stan red velvet

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**Pearl Bay**

* * *

 

Mark wakes up in a bed with a warm body snuggled into his chest and a small commotion coming from the other side of the room. He realizes the body belongs to Haechan when a cold metal earring digs into his bicep after he shifts in Mark’s grip. Mark tugs him closer and buries his face in the top of Haechan’s head, letting the scent of sea salt fill his lungs as his half-lidded eyes drift back closed.

He feels Haechan nuzzle into his neck, most likely in an attempt to block out the growing amount of noise, and the pirate’s grip tightens on the fabric of Mark’s shirt. Mark tries to say something about it being too loud, but all that comes out is a string of incoherent syllables that lose any of their meaning within the soft strands of Haechan’s hair.

Haechan groggily mumbles a reply, his breath hot on Mark’s skin as his mouth forms words, but Mark doesn’t catch what he says. Mark simply hums in response, content to stay where he is until a large, hard object comes in contact with his side and he jerks up into a sitting position, immediately on alert.

Mark quickly figures out that the momentary rush of adrenaline wasn’t worth it because the moment his eyes adjust to the light, he is met with the sight of the _Helios_ crew all huddled by the doorway of the cabin and an atlas resting on the bed from where it had probably just left a large bruise on Mark’s hip.

“What the hell do you demons want?” Haechan mumbles, sitting up slowly next to Mark, yet not opening his eyes. He must already know that his crew is the one at fault without even looking. Haechan curls into Mark’s side, leeching off of his warmth that almost has the chance to lull him back to sleep before Jisung speaks up, barely louder than a whisper.

“We’re here, Haechan.” His voice is soft, contrary to the ruckus that Mark is sure the crew had been causing earlier when trying to figure out the best way to wake them up with the minimum amount of repercussions. “Pearl Bay is in view.”

Those are the five magical words that cause Haechan’s eyes to fly open, his body detaching itself from Mark’s in an instant as he stumbles out of the bed. He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, completely skipping over his boots that are sitting by the side of the bed, before he pushes past the boys lingering in the doorway to dash outside of the cabin. His crew follows immediately, hot on his heels.

Although Mark emerges a moment later than everyone else, the sight still takes his breath away. He has sailed past Pearl Bay a few times in the past, never having a reason or command to stop there, but the little island is almost unrecognizable now. Hundreds of lush, green trees and grasses once used to reside on the fertile land, but now it simply consists of piles of ash and char, black as the night sky. Mark can only see the profile of his face, but he catches a glimpse of Haechan’s lips quivering as he draws in a shaky breath before he walks to the bow of the ship as they approach the island, almost as if in a trance.

“What is he doing?” Mark chooses to pursue Jeno up at the helm instead of following Haechan to the front of the ship. Jeno’s hands readjust on the wheel as he processes the question, his fingers winding around the wood with more caution than usual from the man.

“He hasn’t been back to the island once since he left the first time. I know he sends payments and letters back to the orphanage when he can, but he hasn’t set foot on Pearl Bay in somewhere upwards of ten years.”

Mark nods, understanding, and the entire ship falls into silence as they approach the shores of Pearl Bay. When the  _Helios_ finally drops anchor, Haechan finally turns around, no signs of previous distress evident on his features. Mark can tell that they are just carefully tucked away, barely out of sight, threatening to burst out at any moment. Haechan steels himself, though, visibly wanting to be strong for his crew.

“Mark, Jeno, Renjun, Yukhei, and I will go out to the island. Everyone else will stay back.”

The deck erupts with protests, both from the _Helios_ crew as well as from Mark’s own men, yet there is one voice that sticks out above all of the others’. It is Jisung, surprisingly.

“Why can’t I go?” It’s not a whine that comes from Jisung. It’s a simple question that has Haechan walking towards him, cupping the younger’s cheeks in his palms.

“I don’t want you to relive my pain too, Sungie.” Haechan speaks so softly that Mark and Jeno up at the helm have to strain to hear it over the gentle morning wind. Jisung relents a lot more easily than Mark expects, slumping his shoulders with a resigned nod.

There are no more protests after that, and the four that Haechan chose, along with the captain himself, silently take a rowboat to the shore. Haechan is nearly shaking as he gets out of the boat first, stumbling a moment in the soft sand. Before Mark can move from his seated position to help, Jeno is there, catching his shoulder to keep him from pitching forward.

“You don’t have to do this, Hy—” Jeno glances back at Yukhei and Mark, cutting himself off. “Haechan,” he finishes, a little less forceful. The captain just sucks in a deep breath, steadying himself and stepping away from Jeno’s hand.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just…” he pauses, gazing around. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

A nod from Jeno indicates that Haechan actually is fine; it spurs Yukhei and Mark to climb out of the rowboat after Renjun, stepping out onto the warm sand.

“You lived here?” Yukhei asks in astonishment, turning around to take in the view. Now that they aren’t so far away, all that is visible from their vantage point is the clear blue sky, the bright turquoise water, the white sand beach, and the luscious palm trees that surround them. They must be on a part of the island that Taeyong’s rampage didn’t reach. Mark knows Yukhei loves the tropical islands they visit, and has never been particularly fond of London and its cold, smoggy, cobblestone streets.

Haechan nods, collecting himself.

“I grew up here,” he says, taking in the same view that Yukhei is so infatuated with, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Spent the first ten years of my life on this island.”

“Why did you leave?” Yukhei inquires as they start forward, trudging off of the beach and onto what Mark assumes is a main road of sorts, although it’s just packed dirt in a vaguely trail-shaped form.

“I got a better offer.” The way Haechan says it makes it clear that the topic is to be dropped immediately. Thankfully, everyone understands and they continue on in silence, all trailing behind Haechan’s confident strides.

Not a moment after they stop speaking amongst themselves, a small town comes into view past the rows of foliage lining the path. Mark can see that it’s a quaint little village consisting of small homes and shops that must have been gorgeous not too long ago, yet they are no longer so. As the group walks into town, Mark can see that many of the buildings are no more than charred shells of their former glory, blackened and burned by the fires that destroyed most of the island.

“Sunny?” A woman’s voice calls out, and Haechan’s head whips around to see a young woman carrying a basket, dressed in sailor’s clothes.

“Yeri,” Haechan breathes, running over to the girl, picking her up to spin her around in the air. They’re both laughing, breathless, wrapping each other up in a deep embrace. Mark feels as if he shouldn’t be looking at the scene because of how intimate it appears, so he averts his eyes to scan over the rest of the village as Haechan chats with the woman a few paces away. He isn’t _trying_ to listen in by any stretch, but it just happens.

“Yeri! I’ve missed you!” Haechan is saying, holding the girl—Yeri—by her shoulders, looking her up and down. “Look at how much you’ve grown!”

“What do you mean _I’ve_ grown?” Yeri exclaims back, placing her hands on either side of Haechan’s face to tilt it and get a better look at him, her basket long-forgotten on the ground beside them. “Look at you, Sunny! You’re so handsome!”

Haechan is facing away from Mark as he whacks Yeri on her shoulder, but he can still hear the uncharacteristic blush in his voice.

“Stop it, Yeri! You’re gorgeous.”

“I need to tell Irene and Seulgi that you’re here!” Yeri gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth in excitement. “They told me that you’d come back eventually!”

“It wasn’t supposed to take me so long—” Haechan starts to apologize, but Yeri just drops her hands from his face to clutch onto his fingers in a gentle grip.

“It’s okay, Sunny, don’t worry about it.” Her voice is softer now. “I never lost faith in your promise.”

“You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” Haechan is smiling; it is audible in his voice. Mark snorts aloud because of how true the statement is, and how devastatingly applicable it is to Mark and Haechan’s own interesting habit of running into each other. The noise draws the attention of the two back to him and the other crew members.

“Who are they? Your crewmates?” Yeri looks over Haechan’s shoulder, squinting at them. “No, they can’t be your crew… why are those two wearing royal uniforms?”

“Ah, yes,” Haechan snickers, turning back to face the group. “That is Admiral Mark Lee and Commodore Yukhei Wong of the King’s Royal Navy.”

“What the hell are they doing _here_?” she hisses. “And with _you_?” Haechan scrunches his nose in distaste, but raises a hand to wave off her concern.

“It’s a long story,” he dismisses, and when Yeri looks like she is about to protest, he continues. “Can you find Irene and Seulgi for me? Tell them I’m here and we can meet at the orphanage?”

Yeri’s eyes lose their delighted shine and the smile falls from her lips.

“Sunny…” She puts a hand on Haechan’s shoulder. “The orphanage was destroyed by the fires.”

Haechan’s face goes stone-cold, all traces of his laughter and happiness from earlier are whisked away and replaced with a blank expression, a hard glint in his eyes.

“That bastard won’t get away with this,” he seethes. “If he thinks he can just barge onto _my_ island and hurt _my_ family and burn down _my_ town then he can just—”

“Sunny, no.” Yeri’s voice is hard, holding a note of severity. “I’ve seen firsthand the destruction that he causes. I love you a lot and am not undermining your intelligence or your strength by saying this, but you are no match for Taeyong’s sheer power.”

Haechan purses his lips.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Sunny—”

“Please go find Irene and Seulgi,” Haechan pleads, turning back to her. “We can talk about this later.”

“Fine.” Yeri scoops up her basket from the ground, placing her free hand on her hip. “Meet us at the docks, but this discussion is not over.” She gives them all one last wary glance before pivoting on her heel and walking away down past the burnt village. Haechan sighs as he looks after her, running a hand through his hair, but snaps his head back to attention when Jeno clears his throat.

“So,” Jeno starts, a smile tugging upwards at the corners of his lips as he saunters over to Haechan. “Yeri, huh?” He nudges his shoulder, but Haechan just pushes him away with a scoff.

“She was my best friend growing up, that’s it,” he defends, trying to dodge Jeno’s prodding elbow at his side. “We did everything together, except for leaving, which I did alone.”

“Why did you leave without her?” Renjun asks, speaking up for the first time since their arrival on the island.

“She was given the opportunity but chose to stay for her own reasons, just as I chose to leave for mine,” Haechan shrugs, motioning for the group to follow him on the same path Yeri went down.

“Why does she call you ‘Sunny’?” Yukhei questions, eliciting a light laugh from the captain.

“She couldn’t pronounce my name when we were younger, so she called me Sunny.”

“She couldn’t pronounce ‘Haechan’?” Yukhei tilts his head, curious.

“No, she couldn’t pronounce my real name.”

“Your name isn’t Haechan?” Yukhei stops walking so suddenly that Mark almost runs into him.

Haechan pauses mid-stride and laughs uncomfortably, turning back to face Yukhei and Mark, who are trailing behind him a few paces still.

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head.

“Then what is it?”

Haechan falters, glancing at Jeno with poorly masked panic in his eyes, but Renjun is the one to respond first.

“His name isn’t something he just goes around telling people.” Renjun crosses his arms, eyes narrowing as he carries on down the path. “There’s a reason he goes by Haechan.”

Yukhei looks like he is about to ask what the reason is, but Mark elbows him rather conspicuously in the ribcage to keep him quiet.

“Leave it,” Mark warns and Yukhei deflates, not pushing the subject further. Jeno nods to Mark in thanks once Haechan starts off again and his gaze is no longer on them. Yukhei follows hot on his heels, asking him all sorts of questions about the island.

“Why is he so curious about everything?” Jeno falls back so he is walking beside Mark, striking up a conversation that Mark hasn’t been expecting.

“He likes knowing as much as he can about everything and everyone, and he finds it disconcerting when he is left in the dark about those things.” Mark tries to explain his second’s situation to Jeno without saying anything he shouldn’t about some more sensitive subjects. Mark knows perfectly well that when Yukhei is ready to talk about his history with someone, he will open up to them himself, and it isn’t Mark’s place to take that away from him.

They fall into a comfortable silence, allowing Mark to tune into the conversation that is happening a few paces in front of them where Haechan is telling Yukhei something about climbing the palm trees with Yeri as a young boy to watch the ships disappear over the horizon once they left the port.

“I think it’s just weird for him to _not_ know these things,” Mark continues carefully. “It’s in his nature.”

Jeno hums in response, and Mark can see him nodding his head thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye. He is a bit surprised when Jeno doesn’t comment any further, but lets it go easily since they are rapidly approaching the docks on the other side of the island from where their rowboat is.

There are three women standing on the end of it, quietly conversing. One is Yeri, who Mark easily identifies, but he doesn’t recognize the other two so he assumes that they are the Irene and Seulgi that Haechan had mentioned earlier. Holding true to his theory, Haechan nearly trips over himself when his he sees them, calling out their names in excitement.

“Irene! Seulgi!” Haechan yells, and they all turn their faces to smile brightly when they see him running across the dock to them.

Just as he greeted Yeri earlier, he picks each of the women up, spinning them around in a tight embrace. Mark is about to follow Haechan, placing a foot on the first plank of the dock when there is a hand on his chest to stop him.

It’s Renjun.

He isn’t looking at Mark—his gaze is fixed on Haechan—but Mark still raises an eyebrow at him in question. Renjun restracts his hand slowly, as if making sure that Mark isn’t going to make a break for it anyway, before giving any sort of a reason.

“Let him speak with them for a moment, Mark,” he says quietly. “They have some catching up to do.”

Mark follows Renjun’s stare back to the group on the dock, his eyes zeroing in on Haechan’s smile—the brightest one he has ever seen him sport. Haechan is talking animatedly to the three women, never once letting his grin falter and never once paying the rest of the men back on the shore any sort of attention. Mark rocks back on his heels, gnawing at his bottom lip, wondering if he would ever have a reunion with his father that is anything like that: full of love and adoration for one another, the unadulterated confessions of missing one another so much that they pull each other into hugs that are so tight their breath is pushed out of their lungs.

“Hey,” Haechan calls out. Mark digs his fingernails into his palm to snap himself back to the moment at hand, swallowing down his emotions. “Come meet Irene and Seulgi, my honorary parents.”

Jeno starts down the dock first, followed closely by Yukhei and Renjun, leaving Mark to meander across the dock last. Haechan introduces them to Seulgi, the taller of the two, and Irene, the one with the intimidatingly long dark hair, before telling the women each of the men’s names in turn. Both Seulgi and Irene appear to be somewhere around middle age, but any wrinkles or real signs of aging are few and far between on their faces.

“They just started telling me about what the ship looked like so I thought it to be important that all of you were here for that.” He pauses before prompting them to continue. “Seulgi?”

“It’s wasn’t too unlike _The Eve_ , although I’m not sure what significance that comparison holds to any of the rest of you,” Seulgi says, her voice low and smooth and calming. Jeno shakes his head as he never had the chance to see _The Eve_ in person. Renjun doesn’t make any sort of indication whether he has or not, which sparks a bit of curiosity in Mark’s mind.

“Both Yukhei and I have seen it,” Mark chimes in, tearing his thoughts away from Renjun’s lack of an answer.

“Well, it was very similar to that with its black sails and sense of grandeur, but _The Necromancer’s_ hull seemed to be rotting and its figurehead was some sort of disfigured woman, however I never got close enough to tell for sure.”

“What can you tell us about Taeyong himself?” Haechan asks, and Mark can tell that he is mentally taking notes on everything that Seulgi is saying, his eyes never once leaving her as he absorbs every bit of information that he can.

“He has red hair, a hauntingly beautiful face, and he did this to me,” Irene describes as she pulls up her sleeve and peels a layer of bandages around her forearm away to reveal several ugly lacerations, only half-healed. “He tried to ask about Haechan. He must have known that you have connections here.”

Yeri takes Irene’s arm with her hands, meticulously re-wrapping the bandages in a way that has Renjun nodding with approval.

“I got Irene out of there, already having hidden Seulgi and some of the orphans away, but that didn’t reverse the damage he had done to Irene and the murders he had already committed.” Yeri tugs Irene’s sleeve back down, looking up at Haechan. “When Taeyong realized he couldn’t find out anything from the people, he got angry and set fire to the village. The fire ended up spreading to most of the island, but a storm rolled in not too long after and the rain managed to stop any further damage.”

“So he is powerful _and_ has anger management issues,” Haechan whistles. “What a catch.”

“Like I said earlier,” Yeri continues on, giving Haechan a rather pointed glare. “He is dangerous and you are no match for him.”

“Maybe Haechan isn’t a match for him alone,” Mark speaks slowly, inserting himself carefully into the discussion, “but that is why my crew and I are here now.”

“The addition of him and his men doubles the size of my crew, and the both of us combined hold a lot of power,” Haechan almost teasingly reminds to Yeri, earning a scoff and an eye roll.

“There was also a man who came here, not a day after Taeyong’s rampage, asking about an island? It was one that I had never heard of, but he kept mentioning something about a lost island and a sun?” Seulgi changes the subject abruptly, sensing the tension between the two childhood friends. “He said that he was a British officer, I believe.”

“ _Great_ ,” Haechan scorns, cursing under his breath. “Now I have to deal with _more_ of them?”

“Did he by chance say what his name was?” Mark ignores Haechan’s comment, instead adding something of value to the conversation.

“Ah, yes,” Irene smiles. “He introduced himself as Hendery, I do believe.”

Yukhei sucks in a breath and glances back to Mark. Haechan looks between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What is going on? Do you two know him?”

“You could say that,” Mark explains slowly. “I’ve known him for nearly my entire life. What else did he say while he was here?”

“He was talking about the same ship that Taeyong had been searching for, and apparently he already knows a lot about it,” Irene recounts. “He didn’t go into that much detail with us, but I’m sure that you could go talk to him since you know him.”

“Could we get a meeting with him to happen?” Haechan turns to Mark, directly asking him.

“I received a letter the morning before I left England for this trip that was an invitation to a ball being thrown in Hendery’s honor… something about him being promoted, I believe,” Mark thinks aloud, vocalizing his thought process to make sure everyone is on the same page. “It’s supposed to take place at Port Royal in two days’ time—”

“Which means that we could make it since we aren’t all that far away,” Haechan interjects, finishing off. “I’m estimating that if we set sail within the hour and the wind keeps up, we can make it there by tomorrow evening.”

“Then it’s set,” Yukhei declares, clapping his hands together. “We can go to the ball and talk with Hendery there.”

“But how do we get in?” Renjun pipes up, ever the voice of reason with a hand on his hip. “Mark doesn’t have his invitation anymore, I’m assuming.”

“You can just use mine,” Yeri offers, earning her bewildered expressions from everyone else there.

“ _You_ have an invitation to _Hendery’s_ ball?” Haechan asks, incredulous.

“What? He assured me it was strictly platonic because he already has someone, but he mentioned that he hoped we could be good friends since we both enjoy each other’s company,” Yeri defends herself, crossing her arms and standing up straighter, chin tilted upwards just barely. “And since I won’t be attending the ball, Mark can just take my invitation.”

“What if Hendery doesn’t let Mark in, though?” Jeno asks. “Do we have a backup plan?” The validity of the question takes the group aback; no one has considered the possibility of this not working.

“We don’t need a backup plan,” Mark assures, stepping in. “Hendery and I have been friends for years, ever since he was an advisor to the King, actually. He’d never turn me away on account of that, not to mention my status.”

“As Admiral?” Jeno surmises. Mark catches the glance that Haechan sends him, and he knows that they are both on the same page. Him being let in has nothing to do with his rank of admiral, rather it is because he is the Crown Prince—although he doubts Hendery would ever turn away the admiral, even if it isn’t Mark.

“Yes,” Mark agrees quickly, a curt nod sent in Yeri’s direction when she hands him the still-sealed envelope containing the invitation from inside her basket.

“Good luck,” she says, giving him a tight smile.

“You all should be going so you can get there in time,” Seulgi proclaims, and Mark realizes just how much time has passed. “Irene, Yeri, can you walk the others back? I’d like to speak with Mark for a moment.”

Mark nearly startles at her words and so does Haechan. He has no idea why Seulgi would want to talk with him, but he decides that it might be important, so he waves off Yukhei before he can protest on the prospect of leaving Mark alone with a stranger even though he has his sword.

Seulgi waits by Mark’s side as the others disappear back into the trail in the foliage before she turns to him at last, a story spilling from her lips.

“I was the one to find Haechan—is that what he goes by now?—on the doorstep of the orphanage here over twenty years ago. Even from a very early age, he was constantly full of life and light and happiness. His joy had always been evident through the letters he sent back to Pearl Bay when he left on _The Eve_ , yet when that ship met its demise, his words no longer radiated happiness as they used to.” As Seulgi speaks, Mark tries to guess to what point she is trying to get at, but he can’t come up with anything, so he simply continues to listen. “Yet seeing him here now, for the first time in the flesh since he was a ten-year-old boy, that light has returned to his eyes, and I wish for nothing more than for it to stay there.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but what does this have to do with me?” Mark asks, trying not to raise an eyebrow, as that would show disrespect, and his mother always taught him to hold women in the highest regard because they are wiser than he will ever understand.

“You, young man, are part of the reason he feels so alive now.” She juts out a finger at his chest to emphasize her point. “You give him purpose.” Mark has no idea what to do with this onslaught of information, but decides to respond as if he does.

“Thank you, Seulgi,” he nods, hoping his squinted eyes don’t give away his confusion.

“You don’t understand now, but you will understand soon.” Her eyes twinkle with knowledge that Mark wants her to divulge, but knows that she won’t. “I am certain, but it is of the utmost importance that you get going and join the rest.”

Seulgi walks Mark back to the rowboat on the other side of the island, and the trek seems so much longer now that it isn’t filled with Haechan’s retelling of childhood stories with every passing object, and he almost breathes out a sigh of relief when his boots touch the sand of the beach that the rest of the group is milling around on, preparing to go back to the  _Helios_.

Yeri spots them first, skipping forward to pull a very surprised Mark into a hug.

“If you even _think_ about hurting Haechan, I will make sure hell rains down upon you,” she whispers into his ear before letting him go with a grin. Mark gives her a smile and a nod in response before making his way over to Yukhei as quickly as he can before Irene tries to either threaten him or recount Haechan’s childhood to him—he isn’t sure which is worse.

“What did she say to you?” Yukhei leans down to ask Mark quietly, but the admiral just shakes his head.

Haechan, unsurprisingly, is the last one to get into the rowboat besides Jeno, who is standing at the back, ready to push off. He gives one last hug to each of the women, making sure to plant kisses on both of Yeri’s cheeks, before he helps Jeno shove off back into the water, hopping in and nearly tripping over Renjun.

The boat ride back to the  _Helios_ is nearly silent, Yeri’s envelope weighing heavily in Mark’s hands. The moment they are all on the main deck, Haechan recounts everything that happened on the island, filling the rest of the crew in with the details that they missed. Immediately, Chenle and Jisung both pester Mark to open the invitation, which he does begrudgingly.

The invitation is clearly written by Hendery himself—although no one else can tell, Mark recognizes his unique curly-cue handwriting in an instant—and it invites the receiver of the invitation to bring along a guest with them. “The more the merrier, and this is a merry occasion,” the card states, and Mark makes a mental note to hit Hendery when he sees him for that sentence alone.

A small argument erupts over who should go with Mark, since it’s clear that he has to be one of them, and Haechan is oddly quiet during the whole thing, his focus clearly not on the conversation at hand. He is leaning against the railing of the ship, his head turned back towards Pearl Bay, fading quickly into the distance, and it isn’t until Renjun snaps at him that the glazed look his eyes took on clears up.

“Haechan,” Renjun demands, “you have the final say here.”

“It would be the most logical if Mark and I were the two that went,” he shrugs, turning back to squint at the island. The proposition stuns everyone into silence. They have all been operating under the assumption that Haechan wouldn’t want that—“that” meaning being alone with Mark for an extended period of time—but now that he himself is suggesting it, it’s the clearest option.

“So it’s decided then,” Yukhei clears his throat, tossing a glance to Mark. “We’ll sail to Port Royal and Haechan and Mark will be the ones to speak to Hendery.”

The little congregation ends quickly after that, and Mark notices that Haechan’s crew all heads to the captain’s quarters, leaving just him and Yuta at the helm, and he decides that it is best to leave them alone for a little bit. Mark watches over the rest of his crew for a while, working on adjusting their course to Pearl Bay with Yuta, until a pressing question arises in his mind: who are they going to say Haechan is since he very well can’t go to the ball as the pirate that Hendery will definitely recognize him as.

Mark hands the wheel over to Yuta, heading down to the captain’s quarters with the intent of knocking on the door to alert them of his presence, yet when the conversation from inside the room reaches his ears, he finds himself faltering with his fist poised just in front of the doors.

“You think this is a good idea? Going with Mark?” It’s Jisung speaking, and it’s the use of his name that makes him freeze in his tracks.

“Honestly? No,” Haechan’s voice replies with a sigh. “But there are no other good options. It’s either his crew has all of the information because Mark brings along one of his own, or I put one of you at risk. I’m not willing to do either of those.”

“So you’re choosing to risk yourself instead?” Jisung is frowning, the expression bleeding into his tone enough that Mark can sense it.

“I’m the one that he is least likely to impulsively kill,” Haechan points out and Mark has to suppress a rather ungraceful snort at that.

“Yeah, he’ll only impulsively mortally wound you like last time,” Renjun scoffs, voice slightly muffled by something, but Mark can’t distinguish what.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Like hell you will! This could be suicide—” Jeno starts to protest, but Haechan speaks over him.

“This is my final decision on the matter and it is not up for negotiation,” Haechan’s voice grows louder over his words, then there’s a pause and he takes a deep breath, his voice beginning much softer when he begins again. “As both your captain and your brother, I ask for you to respect that.”

There is some assorted grumbling that grows louder and Mark barely manages to duck into the shadows under the staircase before Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung walk out of the room, all looking mildly disgruntled. Mark is about to enter through the now-open door before he realizes that Renjun never left.

“You’re an idiot and it’s going to get you killed,” Renjun says, voice still muffled yet no less severe. Mark steps back out from under the staircase, but doesn’t dare to peek inside the room just yet.

“I’d rather my demise be due to my own decision rather than someone else’s,” Haechan retorts with a huff.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like it.”

“No one is making you like it, Renjun,” Haechan observes, irritation dripping from every word. “I’m just saying that you have to live with it.”

There’s a heavy pause before Renjun speaks again.

“I hate you.” Renjun sounds like he wants to continue, but a yawn forces him to stop.

“You’re exhausted,” Haechan points out, rather unnecessarily. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re one to talk about exhaustion,” he snips back, all bark and no bite.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Huang,” Haechan commands, and the sound of a chair scraping against the floorboards means that he must have stood up. “You need to rest.”

Renjun must really be lacking the energy to fight because the quarters go silent. Mark doesn’t have the time to hide out of sight again before Haechan leaves the room a beat later with no warning. He pauses, mid-step, right in front of Mark, but doesn’t make a move to look at him.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” He asks, tilting his head up toward the sky. Mark doesn’t verbally reply, not trusting his voice, so he simply hums the affirmative. “So you know where we stand. Good,” Haechan nods once, then walks away and up the stairs to the helm.

It is only once he is out of sight does Mark realize that he has been holding his breath, and he exhales through his mouth, puffing up his cheeks in the process. He is tempted to follow Haechan immediately, but instead goes inside the captain’s quarters to see Renjun tucked into the bed, eyes half-closed.

“I expect him to come back without any extra slices in him this time,” Renjun speaks clearly enough that Mark doesn’t miss a word, despite being swaddled in three blankets; those must have been what was muting his voice earlier.

“Consider it a promise.” Mark looks him dead in the eye, putting as much sincerity in his words as he can muster. Renjun nods, letting his eyes slip closed as Mark turns on his heel and exits the room, softly closing the doors behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm slowly turning this into an ot21 fic and no one can stop me


	9. The Origin of a Waterlogged Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick shoutout to my beta (my sister, val) for pointing out every single direct pirate's of the caribbean reference in this chapter,,, love you

**FOUR YEARS AGO - Huang Renjun**

**Somewhere At Sea**

* * *

 

Renjun woke up to the feeling of freezing water enveloping his body and pure, unadulterated terror coursing through his veins. His numb fingers were barely gripping onto a small piece of driftwood that had probably been part of _The Vision_ ’s hull at one point, and he couldn’t feel most of his body.

He forced his eyes open and was met with the sight of wide open ocean littered with debris from the wreckage. His brother’s ship, his glorified home, had been utterly demolished and Renjun felt his heart sink to the depths of Davy Jones’s locker with the thought. Muscles screaming in protest, he managed to twist his neck from side to side and scan for other people, but there was not another living soul in sight. It was just him, the scattered remains of _The Vision_ , and the open ocean for as far as he could see.

It took him a moment to realize just how dire the situation was: he was alone in the middle of a freezing cold body of water, there was no sign of a rescue in sight, and he knew that his grip was not going to last much longer. 

He had no idea how long he laid there in the water, using what little energy he had left to keep his blue fingers wrapped around the edge of his makeshift life preserver, refusing to lose hope that a miracle would come to save him.

The world was silent in response, the air oddly calm in the wake of the storm the previous night, until a shout pierced the air.

“There’s a boy! There! In the water!”

“Where?”

“Starboard side! Hanging onto a piece of wood!”

“I’m swinging her around. Jeno, Jaemin, go down and get ready to pick him up.”

It took an extraneous amount of energy to distinguish what the voices were saying since they weren’t speaking in his native tongue, but he gleaned just enough to know that they were coming to rescue him, and he almost let go of the driftwood in relief. 

Renjun lifted his head up as a shadow passed over him, and he looked up to see the bow of a ship gliding by. There was one boy standing at the railing, peering down at him with wide eyes, and there were two more boys climbing down the ladder on the side, the waves just barely splashing at the soles of their boots as they readied a rope—presumably to cast out to Renjun.

“Cap!” One of them shouted back up as Renjun let his head fall back down onto the wood with a dull thunk. “One of us needs to go in! He’s not going to make it on his own!”

The words were muffled by the water sloshing around by his ears, but the sight of someone diving into the water from the side of the ship that Renjun spotted from the corner of his vision didn’t lie.

 

Renjun was moderately sure that he had passed out at some point just after he registered a warm body swimming up next to his frigid one because the next time he opened his eyes, he felt sold, dry planks under his back and he was no longer engulfed in water. He could feel the sun shining down on his face, warming his skin pleasantly, and he snuggled a little bit deeper into the blankets that were swaddling his body completely.

His eyes shot open and he tried to sit up, realizing that had no idea where he was or who had even some to his rescue.

“Hey, hey there, don’t move so fast,” a voice murmured softly and a warm hand was placed on his forehead, encouraging him to lay back down. “You’re lucky to be alive. What’s the rush?” A deep chuckle rang out from the same person who spoke, but Renjun’s mind was reeling too much to be concerned with how melodious and rich it sounded.

“What? Where? Who…?” Renjun struggled to find the right words, his brain mixing up the languages he was fluent in faster than he could straighten them out to form coherent sentences.

“You’re safe now,” the voice spoke gently again. Renjun cracked his eyes open to see a boy with smiles for eyes leaning over him slightly. “My name is Jeno and this is Jaemin. You’re okay.”

“Where—” Renjun’s voice cracked embarrassingly. “Where are we?”

“On our ship, the  _Helios_ ,” another voice piped up from almost directly above him, and Renjun tilted his head to see another boy with a blinding grin. He belatedly realized that his head was cradled in the grinning boy’s—Jaemin’s—lap and he was carding his fingers through Renjun’s half-dried, tangled locks. 

Renjun let his head relax, feeling it settle back onto Jaemin’s legs. He knew the name of the ship was familiar, but he couldn’t place it for the life of him. He blamed it on his head playing tricks on him, and it was beside the point entirely, because he had much more important things to focus on.

Things like how Jeno was placing his hands under the blankets and began running his palms up and down Renjun’s arms to warm him up. Things like how Jaemin’s fingers had slowly migrated from massaging his scalp to how they were carefully tracing the lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

“What’s your name?” Jeno asked quietly, never once faltering in his movements. 

“Renjun,” he responded after a moment, taking a leap to decide he could trust these boys. “Huang Renjun.”

“Wait… Huang?” Jaemin made eye contact with Jeno above Renjun, both of them frowning. “Isn’t that—” Before Jaemin could finish his thought, there was another voice interrupting him.

“Can you take the wheel for a moment, Jaemin?” The words seemed to echo across the deck all the way from the helm.

Renjun was immediately on high alert; he knew that voice, and he had gotten to know it well. Although, the last time he had heard it, the pitch was higher and it was hoarse from screaming, which was quite the difference given the smooth, honey-like undertone it had now. Renjun felt that same fear from when he had woken up alone in the ocean creep back to grip him again, holding him captive in its icy jaws.

“Sure, cap,” Jaemin placed Renjun’s head on the deck gently, but it didn’t hit solid wood like he had been expecting. Instead, his head was let down carefully onto a balled-up piece of fabric, which, when Renjun blinked up at Jaemin, he quickly identified as the other boy’s shirt. For some godforsaken reason, this attractive boy had found it necessary to take off his shirt to use as a makeshift pillow, and had the _audacity_ to send him a wink as he stood up and left Renjun’s side.

Renjun considered himself lucky that he could use the excuse of being cold for the blush on his cheeks.

“Wait, Jaemin—” Renjun tried to call out to the boy, but he must not have heard because he just continued to walk away. Jeno just took his hands between his two warm palms and rubbed in an attempt to make his fingers a little less blue, and warm him up in the process.

Just then, a shadow crossed his face, blocking the sunlight, and everything felt deathly cold—not even Jeno’s excess body heat could fight off the rush of ice-cold dread that rushed through every vein in Renjun’s body the moment he caught sight of who the shadow belonged to. 

The earring, the blazing blue eyes, the barely visible scar on the inside of his wrist. 

It was Donghyuck, scowling down at him, and Renjun had never felt so small in his entire life.

“Get this rat off of my ship,” Donghyuck says, nudging Renjun’s shoulder with the toe of his boot.

“Haechan?” Jaemin called from up at the helm, straining to see what was going on. “What is—”

“Throw him back in the water where you found him,” the captain tried to dismiss Renjun, but the boy that Renjun hadn’t been introduced to yet spoke up, his voice light and airy.

“Why don’t you want him here? Do you know him?”

“His name is Huang Renjun and I don’t want him anywhere near my goddamn ship,” Donghyuck whirled on the boy, expression still twisted in displeasure. “Is that clear, Chenle?”

“Look, captain,” Jeno started, but Donghyuck cut him off with a mere movement of his hand.

“He’s not staying.”

“But—” Jaemin tried to protest from up at the helm, but Donghyuck spoke over him with unparalleled authority.

“He is not staying on my ship and that is final,” he sneered at Renjun, making to turn on his heel and walk away.

“It wasn’t my fault, Donghyuck,” Renjun said before he could move away, stretching out a hand from under the blankets to make a weak grab for his boot. ‘Horribly cliché’ would have been his response is someone had asked Renjun his opinion on the collective gasp that washed over the ship after he spoke.

“It doesn’t matter,” Donghyuck hissed, jerking away. “You still did it and I still bear the reminder branded into my skin.”

“What is going on Haechan?” Chenle stood up, his words more of an exclamation than a question.

“He’s not staying,” Donghyuck ignored the squawk from Chenle and continued on. “I have enough to deal with since Jisung is sick and I can’t have another fiasco on my hands right now—”

“Who is sick?” Renjun interjected, earning a scathing glare from Donghyuck, but he didn’t back down this time.

“It’s none of your—” the captain started, but Chenle stepped forward, cutting him off.

“One of the crew. His name is Jisung.”

“I’m a healer,” Renjun struggled to sit up, ignoring the ungraceful snort from Donghyuck. “I might be able to help.”

“You? A healer? _Please_.” Donghyuck clenched his fists. “The only thing you’re capable of doing is hurting innocent—”

“That’s enough,” Renjun snapped. “If there is one thing we should agree on, it is that you were not innocent in any way, shape, or form. I did what the bare minimum of the law required and you got off nearly scot free.”

“You call _this_ ,” Donghyuck yanked up his sleeve and showed him the white scar on the inside of his wrist, a stark contrast to the rest of his tan skin. “Scot free? You have got to be kidding me.”

“I saved your _life_ , you ungrateful—” Renjun growled, but Donghyuck just turned away from him and spoke to Chenle.

“I’m not letting him anywhere near Jisung,” Donghyuck snarled. “Not with what I know he is capable of.”

“He may very well be our only chance,” Jeno responded, calm as ever. “And I know that you would rather die than see Jisung suffer any more than he already has.”

It was silent for a moment, a clear nonverbal exchange going on between Donghyuck and Jeno before the captain finally looked away first. 

“Fine. He heals Jisung and then we drop him off somewhere. Jaemin, stay up at the helm while we deal with this,” Donghyuck gave the order with no room for negotiation, leaving Jaemin no choice but to look on helplessly as everyone else descended below deck.

The first thing Renjun noticed was the fact that it was sweltering down there. Of course, as it was summertime near the tropics it was bound to be warm, but Renjun felt his forehead instantly bead with sweat when he set foot on the deck of the next level down.

Donghyuck led him over through the lantern-lit deck all the way over to the one occupied hammock way on the opposite side, underneath where the helm was. Renjun felt his heart sink when he caught sight of the boy lying there, cradled in the fabric.

Jisung’s skin was pale and clammy, his chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths as a shiver wracked his frail body and he curled up on himself a little further. Renjun placed a hand on his forehead, and even though he was still cold in comparison to his normal body temperature, he knew immediately that the boy was burning up.

“How long has he been like this?” Renjun didn’t have to turn around to know that Donghyuck was still there, watching him like a hawk, and would be ready to answer his question.

“He’s been running a fever for about a week, but it go this bad two days ago and it hasn’t changed since.” The captain’s voice told Renjun that he was a lot more nervous than he probably wanted to let on, so Renjun refrained from commenting on that, instead turning his attention to Jisung once more.

“He’s lucky that it hasn’t been too long, otherwise I might not be able to save him.”

“But you _can_ save him, right?” Chenle was on the other side of the hammock, lacing his fingers with Jisung’s trembling ones. 

“I can try,” Renjun murmured before turning to Jeno. “Did I have my coat on me when you picked me up?”

“Yeah…” Jeno looked up at the ceiling as if he could see through the wooden planks to find where he had put the coat. “We took it off you because it was soaking wet and it wasn’t helping you warm up.”

“Can you go grab it for me?” Renjun flashed him a smile with his question and Jeno was dashing off back up to the main deck before anyone could offer to go get it first. He returned only a moment later, handing Renjun’s coat to him. He thanked Jeno quietly, almost absentmindedly, as he had already begun to root through the numerous pockets until he produced three small glass bottles from a hidden seam on the inside, all of them intact and full of the exact herbs he needed. “Does someone have a bowl? And some water?” 

Jeno, once again, was the first to respond. With a quick nod, he bolted off to go get what Renjun had requested before either Donghyuck or Chenle had the chance to react to the situation. He had barely gotten the bottles laid out in front of him and determined how much of which he needed to use for Jisung’s condition when Jeno came scrambling back so fast he nearly knocked into Renjun. 

Renjun took the bowl of water and placed the herbs carefully inside, stirring the mixture with his finger until he was satisfied. He couldn’t heat it into a tea like his mother had taught him to do, so he hoped that the cold mixture would do. He tipped the bowl up to Jisung’s lips, and the sick boy spluttered at first but managed to choke the liquid down despite his half-conscious state. 

Jisung’s breathing evened out not too long after he drank the mixture and he relaxes back into his hammock, no longer tensed from the nearly constant shivers that had been disrupting every inch of his body.

A trick that his brother had showed him a long time ago was wiping some of the excess herbs on the pulse points of the person, so Renjun carefully wiped what was left of the herbs in the bottom of the bowl to Jisung’s neck and wrists, then stood back in hopes that it would help.

“Is…” Chenle started, unsure. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Renjun nodded, stepping back with the bowl in hand. “We should let him rest.”

“I’ll stay with him, I think,” Chenle says softly, brushing Jisung’s sweaty bangs off of his forehead with such a gentle touch and fond look that Renjun had to look away in fear of intruding upon something intimate between the two.

Donghyuck nodded, his lips sealed into a thin line and his face set into a stony expression, leading the way back to the main deck for Jeno and Renjun. 

“What happened down there?” Jaemin called immediately upon seeing them emerge. Thankfully, he had his shirt back on now. “Is Jisung okay?”

“He will be,” Renjun replied, rubbing his temples. “He just needs rest now, I think.”

“You _think_?” Donghyuck spat, finally speaking again. “That isn’t exactly the most reassuring thing.”

“So what happened between you two?” Jeno asked, everyone else on the deck collectively ignoring Donghyuck’s outburst. “We’re clearly missing something here.”

“Do you want to explain or should I?” Renjun sighed, tossing a glance to a fuming Donghyuck as the healer made his way up to the helm to stand by Jaemin. 

“We met when I was young, one of my first years aboard _The Eve_ , actually. I was sent off on a mission by Suho, but ended up getting captured by a person who worked for the East India Trading Company. They had identified me as part of Suho’s crew and took me in for trial,” Donghyuck sucked in a deep breath, finally calming down. “They branded me a pirate and left me for dead.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Jaemin squinted into the midday sun as he spoke. “Where does Renjun come in?”

“I was the one who branded him a pirate,” Renjun admitted before Donghyuck could take that away from him. “My father is one of the men who run the company, and to prove my loyalty, I was the one chosen to place a brand on a pirate that they had just caught. I had no idea it was going to be just a boy until I was in the room, red-hot iron in hand.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you still did it! And I have a permanent reminder of your cruelty for it!” Donghyuck exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a way where his sleeves fell away from his hands, and the white scar in the shape of a ‘P’—for pirate—seemed to glare at Renjun from across the deck. “You watched, unfazed, as a twelve year old boy screamed and begged for the pain to stop, and you just pressed harder. What kind of a—”

“That’s not the whole story,” Renjun cut Donghyuck off before he could continue cursing him out. 

“Then what is?” The captain crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “What information could I _possibly_ be missing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Renjun glanced at Jaemin and Jeno. “And as much as I appreciate it, I don’t think I want extraneous audience members for this one.”

There was a moment of silent consideration, the tension thick in the air between Renjun and Donghyuck until the captain finally turned his head to the side, breaking the eye contact.

“My quarters. Jeno, Jaemin, stay out here,” he commanded before stalking into the room under the helm, not waiting for any sort of response from Renjun.

“Good luck in there,” Jeno spoke gently, placing a comforting hand on Renjun’s shoulder. “I would really like you to come back out alive.”

“Me too,” Jaemin added with a wink. “We’ll be waiting for you, sweetheart.”

Renjun stumbled over a thank you to the duo, rushing down the stairs in hopes to hide his flaming cheeks from their sight. He tried to take deep breaths as he walked into Donghyuck’s quarters but he knew that the blush was still adorning his cheekbones and it would most surely garner an odd look from Donghyuck, at the bare minimum.

However, he was surprised that Donghyuck gave him no sort of reaction. He was already settled into a chair on one side of the room, one leg slung over the other casually and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“My father more than worked for the East India Trading Company,” Renjun exhaled and pulled the door shut behind him. Seeing nowhere else to sit, he gingerly seated himself on the only bed in the room that he assumed to be Donghyuck’s. “He ran it. I was in training to take my father’s place since my older brother was already on a different track in the company. So I was there during the trial, and although you didn’t see me, I was there listening to everything that happened.”

“As stupid and naïve as it sounds, your voice is what drew me to take pity on you. It was the fact that you spoke with such strong words, yet still had a child’s voice not too different than mine, and never once backed down from defending yourself.” Renjun peeked over at Donghyuck, but his expression had yet to change. “So I told my father that you had the capacity to change, yet just lacked the incentive since you were so young. He bought into it, and asked my opinion, completely dropping his former idea of having you hanged without a second thought. I simply suggested locking you up, but he wanted a permanent physical reminder, so when I suggested a brand, he thought it was brilliant and still didn’t suspect that I was doing this to save a pirate’s life.”

Donghyuck opened his mouth to add something of his own, but hesitated for a beat too long, so Renjun continued on. 

“The one drawback is that he wanted me to administer the brand since he had twisted it around to think that I had come up with the idea, and I want you to know that it is the most horrid thing I’ve ever done, and if it gives you bad dreams occasionally, it gave me nightmares every night for months.”

There was a moment of silence.

“There’s more to this story, Renjun,” Donghyuck prodded. “Spit it out.”

“I was the one to go find _The Eve_ and explain to Captain Suho where you were and how to find you. After locking you up, I knew my conscience wasn’t going to sit well with it, so I decided to do something. I did some asking around until I found where _The Eve_ was docked, then snuck onto it and spoke with Suho. I explained what had happened and where you were, and I left your ship that night with the knowledge that I would always be welcomed back onto _The Eve_ if trouble ever found its way to me,” Renjun spoke quickly, finding himself nearly becoming lightheaded with the speed that the story poured itself from his lips. “The next morning, when it was revealed that the little pirate boy, you, Donghyuck, had escaped overnight, I counted my conscience as clear and I moved on as best I could.”

Another moment of silence ensued.

“Why did he never tell me?” Donghyuck whispered, interrupting the quiet.

“What did _who_ never _what_?” Renjun asked, tired of having to request clarification for everything.

“Why did Suho never tell me that you had come to him with the intent to help me?” Donghyuck inhaled shakily. “I spent _so long_ telling him all about you and what you had done to me and how much I resented you for it, and he never once tried to correct me or clarify what really happened… I just don’t understand…” He slumped back in his chair, rubbing at his earring absently.

“I couldn’t tell you, Donghyuck,” Renjun shrugged, helpless. “I was with him for a few minutes, which is nothing compared to the years you spent sailing at his side. It may have been to teach you a lesson?”

“It was my first experience aboard the ship when I finally felt as if I wasn’t completely invincible…” Donghyuck spoke his thoughts aloud, realization lighting up his eyes. “Even when I didn’t do anything explicitly wrong, people will never show mercy toward me… that was what I learned… and it humbled me and made me a better pirate because of it. Huh. So the old geezer had his reasons after all.”

“But that is what brings us here, you see,” Renjun continued, now feeling comfortable enough with Donghyuck to explain how he had gotten stuck in the middle of the ocean in the first place. “After ‘proving my allegiance’, or however my father referred to it, by branding you, I was free to sail with my brother until my father died and I needed to take over the company. However, Sicheng didn’t always follow the rules of the company and often dealt with pirates, and that’s what got him in trouble, I think. My father found out what he was doing and sent his own ships to destroy us.”

“Sounds a little too familiar for my taste,” Donghyuck wrinkled his nose. “And I—” he cut himself off so abruptly that it scared Renjun.

“What?” He asked, tilting his head. “What is—”

“I’m not killing him so would you all please stop listening in?” Donghyuck called out. There was a thump outside of the room and a moment later, Jaemin peeked his head inside the door with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, Cap.” He blinked nervously. “We’ll go now.”

“How did you know that they were out there?” Renjun turned back to Donghyuck after the doors were closed again and the footsteps had faded away. 

“The ship was too quiet,” Donghyuck snorted. “But you aren’t as bad of a person as I thought you were for what? The past six years?”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll take what I can get.” Renjun cracked a smile in response that just made Donghyuck chuckle.

“How’s this: no matter how badly you mess up, you’ll never be worse than Mark.” The mirthful little smile that Donghyuck’s lips had taken the form of the moment he said Mark’s name tipped Renjun off.

“Mark? As in Mark Lee? As in Mark ‘Admiral of the British fucking Navy’ Lee?” Renjun was decently surprised that the curse came out in the right language.

“That’s the one.”

“What the _fuck_ kind of history do you have with him if you think he’s worse than me?”

Donghyuck explained everything that happened, from their first meeting to all of the little incidents after, and by the end of the long-winded tale, Renjun is near speechless.

“You’re in love with the Admiral of the British Navy,” he managed to choke out, eyes wide. 

“How in hell did you get ‘I am in love with him’ from ‘this guy is my mortal enemy and I want to rip out his guts’ or weren’t you listening?” Donghyuck spluttered, sitting up straight.

“I just _know_ , and besides,” Renjun smirked, “You aren’t denying anything.”

“Even if there is some small part of me that still does, it will never happen and he’s messed up too many things for me to forgive him.”

Renjun glossed over Donghyuck’s use of the word “still,” moving on quickly instead.

“So you’re expending all of your emotional energy on hating him instead of loving him like every other bit of you wants to?”

“I—What? No! You’re not listening!” Donghyuck tried to defend, but when Renjun just shot him an all-knowing look, he relented. “Okay… maybe? Maybe I do? It’s complicated.”

“I know it’s complicated.” Renjun made a face. “You just spent half a century trying to explain it all to me.”

“Speaking of complicated…” Donghyuck got a smile on his face that Renjun really wasn’t fond of. “What is between you and Jeno and Jaemin? It’s been maybe an hour and you’re already seducing my crewmates.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Renjun tried to speak confidently, but by the way his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, he knew it was all for naught.

“Do you think I missed that little blush on your face when you walked in here?” Donghyuck scoffed. “I’m not blind, Renjun.”

“I have no idea what’s going on!” Renjun fell back onto the bed, exasperated. “Like you said, it’s been maybe an hour and they’re both just so… wow, you know?”

“Uh huh.” Donghyuck grinned, making Renjun groan as he sat up.

“Okay that’s enough about this. We’re done.”

“For now.” Donghyuck refused to drop that irritating smile of his until Renjun forcefully moved the conversation onto a different topic. 

They talked for hours that afternoon, trying to understand one another both as people and as sailors. As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow on the deck of the  _Helios_ , Renjun and Donghyuck finally emerged from the captain’s quarters.

Jeno had taken the wheel from Jaemin at some point, and Chenle was just helping a feeble—yet more alive-appearing—Jisung make his way up to the main deck. They all perked up visibly when the two stepped out into the middle of the deck so they could see everyone. Renjun and Donghyuck exchanged a look before the captain turned to address his crew.

“He can stay.”

There was a loud whoop from Jaemin, who rushed forward and scooped Renjun up into his arms, twirling him around before pressing his lips squarely onto his cheek, no trace of shame anywhere . Renjun felt as if he had caught Jisung’s fever because of how his face flamed up. A different pair of arms wrapped around his middle and he felt Jeno’s lips against his neck, ever-so-gently peppering small kisses there.

“Well _that’s_ disgusting.” Chenle pulled a face, dramatically averting his eyes from the three boys standing in front of him. Jisung stood next to him, an amused smile decorating his sickly pale face.

“Agreed,” he hummed, resting his head on Chenle’s.

Renjun’s eyes flicked up to see Donghyuck standing at the helm, staring at the compass clutched between his fingers. The captain’s head tilted up finally, meeting Renjun’s gaze and he gave him a nod, the ends of his lips twitching upwards in the slightest.

“Where are we off to, Cap?” Jisung asked, his voice still hoarse.

“Wherever you want,” Donghyuck shrugged. “We have no obligations.”

“Can we show Renjun around Tortuga?” Jaemin perked his head up from its resting position on Renjun’s shoulder, planting a little kiss just underneath his jaw that made him shiver.

“It’s a plan.” Donghyuck smiled, but his brows drew together the moment he looked back at his compass. He glanced between the sky and the dial in his palm for a moment before his frown increased and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jaemin? Can you come here and give me a heading?”

“Sure, Cap,” Jaemin replied easily, squeezing Renjun’s waist once more before peeling himself away and scampering up the stairs to the helm.

“Why can’t he get his own heading?” Renjun leaned over to Jeno on his other side, words hushed but not quite whispered. He narrowed his eyes, watching Jaemin take the compass from Donghyuck and then, after just a moment, point just off the starboard side, presumably in the direction of Tortuga.

“That’s the compass that he got from his old captain. Suho, his name was,” Jisung spoke up from behind them, and Renjun looked around to see him leaning equally on the mainmast and on Chenle for support. “It doesn’t exactly point north,” he explained, voice slightly raspy.

“If it doesn’t point north, then where _does_ it point?” Renjun tilted his head, not understanding. 

“It points to whatever the holder wants the most at the time,” Jisung spared a glance at the helm, “and it seems like the thing Hyuck wants the most right now just isn’t Tortuga.”

“What _does_ he want most then?”

“It’s anyone’s guess, Renjun,” Jisung huffed out. “There are still some things that he doesn’t even tell me.”

“Shouldn’t the compass point to the Isle, though? I figured that was what he wanted most,” Renjun quirked a brow, but Jisung just shook his head.

“That’s not how the magic of the compass works, I guess, or maybe the magic of the Isle itself? We still aren’t quite sure, but we followed where his compass pointed for months, yet never found anything.”

“Actually, we did have an unfortunate run-in with the British Navy at one point, but that was about it,” Chenle added on, lacing his fingers with Jisung’s.

Renjun hummed in response, his mind already churning with ideas and theories, but when Jeno pulled him a little closer, his mind went blissfully quiet.

“You’re thinking too hard, Injunnie,” Jeno whispered, brushing a stray lock of Renjun’s hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about this. It’s something that Donghyuck has dealt with for years and it hasn’t been a problem yet.”

“Yeah,” Chenle chimed in, agreeing. “We just make fun of him for being indecisive and call it a day.”

Renjun felt Jeno laugh with his whole body, the vibrations traveling easily from Jeno’s chest to Renjun’s, and when Jaemin came back down the stairs and wrapped his arms around the both of them, Renjun swore he had never felt more at home.

Between the two boys he might be starting to love, with an old acquaintance that he might be able to call a friend, with a whole new crew and an open horizon, Renjun couldn’t help but shiver with the overwhelming feeling of being loved and wanted—a feeling that he hadn’t always been so familiar with.

He savored the moments that he spent with the crew— _his crew_ —that evening: how captivating Donghyuck was when he told stories, how funny Chenle could be when he wasn’t telling bad jokes, how much love Jisung held in his small heart for each of his crewmates, how Jaemin had wrapped his arms around Renjun at some point that evening and pulled him into his lap. When Jeno offered his jacket to Renjun, because his old one was still soaking wet and down below deck, he didn’t waste a second to accept it and everything that came with it, implications and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is what you all have been waiting for so just,,, bear with me :D


	10. Bathe & Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes before i begin:
> 
> \- this chapter is absurdly long and i am So Sorry  
> \- however it is 8k because it contains a scene that i've been planning since december 2018 and it just,,, got out of hand  
> \- if anyone catches the beauty and the beast reference, you get a kiss  
> \- this is both the longest and fastest update i've ever written and it's not a trend it's an anomaly pls don't expect me to write 8k every four days i can't do this again  
> \- hehe this chapter is for nik ([@izdongpyo](https://twitter.com/izdongpyo))!! thank you for giving me endless support through all of my bullshit that i put in your dms about this fic,, it means the World to me,, come catch these hugs
> 
> mkay,,, enjoy 8k of bullshit,,,

**PRESENT DAY - Lee Donghyuck**

**Port Royal**

* * *

 

“So,” Donghyuck starts, taking the jacket from Mark’s offering hand. “Hendery knows that you’re the prince?” He asks the question as Mark continues buttoning up his own coat by the railing.

“Would you mind saying it a little louder?” Mark shoots him a scathing look. Donghyuck glances back to see Jeno standing on the other side of the helm at the wheel and winces.

“But does he?”

“He was one of my boy servants when I was still young and living in the palace, and he was one of my only friends both before and after my mother died.” Mark’s voice is a bit muffled by the wind, which is probably a good thing considering how close Jeno is to them.

“He slowly worked up the ranks as he grew older, eventually becoming one of my father’s closest advisors despite his young age. We kept in touch minimally while I was going through training, but we haven’t seen each other face to face in quite some time.”

“Will he know who I am?” Donghyuck finally poses the question that has been plaguing his mind since the moment Mark suggested that he should accompany him to the ball, acting as the Admiral. “Will anyone else?” He runs his fingers along the gold lining of the admiral’s coat in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Mark says truthfully, running a hand through his hair. “I do know that once I can get to Hendery and explain the situation, he won’t mind your presence, but as for everyone else… I suppose we just have to act as natural as we can and pray that no one else there knows me personally.”

“Or that no one there has been threatened by me,” Donghyuck chimes in, a little too cheerful given the glare that Mark tosses in his direction. “Look, I tend to do that a lot, and I can’t keep track of all of the people I’ve sworn death to before. It’s really not my fault.”

Mark just sighs in response, fingers pressing against the hilt of his sword as something that Donghyuck has come to realize is more of a nervous tick than an actual sign of aggression.

“We can only hope that Hendery doesn’t question why I have a pirate dressed in my coat accompanying me to his ball, and the very pirate he knows that I’ve hated for years at that.” The admiral’s attention is stuck on the horizon as he speaks.

“You hate me? Ouch.” Donghyuck pouts exaggeratedly in Mark’s direction, garnering him an eye roll from the prince. He simply grins back as he puts his arm through the other sleeve of the jacket, adjusting it over his shoulders. The sleeves are just a bit too long and there is some extra fabric where Donghyuck’s shoulders can’t quite fill out the coat as well as Mark’s can, but it will have to do for this. “Do I look like you now?” he teases, striking an unnecessarily regal pose, unabashedly mocking the other.

“Not even a bit,” Mark bites back, clearly unamused. 

“Fantastic. That must mean I’m still attractive even with this horrid coat.” Donghyuck grins.

“Can you two stop bickering for five seconds? We’re here,” Renjun calls from down on the main deck, stopping any argument before it can even start. Donghyuck looks over his shoulder and wonders just how screwed he is by docking the _Helios_ —a well known pirate ship—at Port Royal of all places. It literally has the word “royal” in its name, meaning it’s going to be teeming with soldiers and sailors of all sorts that are all against him.

“If Yukhei is here on the _Helios_ , no one will touch it.” Mark answers Donghyuck’s unvoiced concern in such a way that makes an irrational, hot flash of annoyance run through his body; his finger twitches.

He isn’t used to people being able to read him so well—even Jisung, who he has known longer than anyone else still in his life besides Yixing, still can’t read his thoughts like that, and it leaves Donghyuck feeling like he doesn’t even know _what_ to feel. It’s a little unnerving for him, but he doesn’t have too much time to worry about it before he is taking over at the wheel and guiding the  _Helios_ into port. 

With the help of the workers already on the dock along with the crew on board, it doesn’t take nearly as long as Donghyuck expects to bring the _Helios_ to a secure stop. 

“Ready to go?” Mark asks Donghyuck when Yukhei drops the plank, and he nods in response before leading the way off of the ship and all the way down the dock until he gets to a split in the road and realizes he doesn’t know where he is going. 

He turns back to Mark to ask which direction they should be heading in, but he sees that the admiral is still back at the end of the dock, handing some coins to one of the dock workers while gesturing to the _Helios_ and speaking. The worker nods after a moment and Mark pats him on the back before catching sight of Donghyuck far enough ahead of him that he jogs to catch up.

“I told him to make it known that no one should be let anywhere near the ship unless the crew on board says otherwise,” Mark explains when he catches up to Donghyuck. “That’s the best I could do.”

“It’s good enough,” Donghyuck accepts with a shrug. “Now where are we heading?”

“I forget that you’ve never been here before,” Mark smiles before starting up the road that branches off to the left. “It’s just up this way.”

Donghyuck trails along behind him as Mark points out specific buildings and talks about them in a fond way that strikes him oddly. He absently wonders if he sounded anything like that when he was talking during their visit to Pearl Bay, but the thoughts are shaken out of his head as they approach a gated mansion at the end of the road.

“I cannot let you enter, I’m afraid,” the guard at the gate explains as they approach. “It’s the master’s orders.”

“Tell Wong Kunhang that crown prince Lee Minhyung and his Admiral are here for his celebration,” Mark responds without missing a beat, a new air of confidence around him as he presents Yeri’s invitation. “Let’s see if that changes your master’s mind.”

The guard physically startles when he hears Mark drop the words ‘crown prince’ while holding the invitation out. He rushes out apologies as he ushers them inside the gates and instructs them to go to the front door and present the invitation once again and they would be taken care of.

“Kunhang?” Donghyuck whispers to Mark once they are through the gate and a safe distance away from the guard, who is still stooped in a low bow by the gate although Mark is now quite a few paces away. “I thought you said his name was Hendery.”

“It’s a nickname of sorts that he adopted because it sounded more English, and that is what he goes by most of the time. Not many people know his real name.” Mark sends a pointed look at him. “Not unlike you, actually.”

Donghyuck hums in response, refusing to make eye contact with Mark even after they stop at the front door of the mansion and Mark gives the large, brass knocker a few firm hits against the door. Almost immediately, the door is swung open and a servant greets them with a stoic expression and severe eyebrows, introducing himself as Xiaojun. He looked between the invitation in Mark’s outstretched hand and the admiral’s jacket on Donghyuck’s shoulders before opening the door wider and allowing them inside.

“The master is busy at the moment, but both the prince and his admiral are more than welcome in his home.” Xiaojun greets them in a way that makes Donghyuck feel as if he knows what is going on. “You are invited to take a bath before dinner with Mister Hendery, then you are welcome to stay the night before Hendery’s celebration.”

“We graciously accept your offer, Xiaojun.” Mark gives him a polite nod, never taking his focus away from the servant unlike Donghyuck, whose attention is on the foyer of the mansion. Having grown up with very little and with his profession being one that requires being on a ship for the majority of his life, he hasn’t seen anything like it before.

The floor is shining marble, but the columns and the staircase reminded him of the pictures he has seen in the books on ancient Greece that he read all the time back at the orphanage. There are wide windows to let in plenty of the bright sunlight, but the ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room is still lit. Donghyuck is a little overwhelmed, to say the least, but even the foyer can’t prepare him for the bath house in the small building adjacent to the mansion.

“Just how rich is this Hendery?” Donghyuck murmurs more to himself than anyone else as they enter, but Mark must hear him anyway because he fails to stifle laughter.

“You’ll be saying the same thing when you go to his party tomorrow,” he snickers, and that only fuels Donghyuck’s worry further.

“There won’t be anyone else using the bath house, so please, take your time and,” Xiaojun pauses, looking them up and down. “Clean yourselves up.” He hands them each a towel and a small cloth, both made of the softest material Donghyuck has ever laid his hands on, before he quietly excuses himself from the room.

The bath house itself isn’t particularly large, but Donghyuck has never seen any sort of indoor body of water larger than a bathtub before, so he feels a little out of his depth between the grecian columns and the gilded sconces lining the walls of the room. He has been so caught up with looking around that he doesn’t notice that Mark has walked to the other side of the pool and has begun to shuck his clothes.

“You alright?” he calls out across the pool, and they both cringe at how much his voice reverberates around the walls.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck forces himself out of his stupor, tearing his eyes away from the architecture and bringing his gaze back to Mark. “I’ve just never been in a place like this before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Mark smiles and turns around to take off his shirt, but a ball of cloth hits him in the back of the head. He whips around to see a dark blue coat at his feet and a suddenly coatless yet smug-looking Donghyuck smirking at him from the other side of the room. He rolls his eyes. “Come on and get in, just leave your breeches on since there are two of us.”

“No way, I thought I was here to give you a strip tease—” Donghyuck begins, but Mark shakes his head vigorously enough to get him to stop.

“Just shut up and get in the bath, would you?”

Donghyuck laughs, but finally moves to take off his clothes. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark pull his shirt off over his head and he tries not to gulp at the pale expanse of his torso, tones and muscular from working on ships. He has to busy himself with removing his own borrowed uniform as Mark slips into the water on the other side of the pool.

Donghyuck doesn’t take off his shirt until it is the last thing on his body, save his breeches, and he even goes so far as to unlace his boots and take off his socks before he tugs off his shirt at last. The moment it hits the floor beside him, he hears Mark audibly suck in a breath from the other side of the bath, meaning that Mark has been watching him.

He tries _really hard_ not to dwell on that thought.

“Are those all…?” Mark doesn’t even have to finish his thought for Donghyuck to understand what he is getting at.

“They’re all scars, yes.”

“How did you—”

“I’m a pirate, Mark,” Donghyuck bites out as he slides into the bath, letting himself relax as the warm water washes up around him. “These kind of come with the job.” He takes the cloth that he set by the edge of the pool and the bar of soap that was wrapped in the soft fabric, and begins to clean himself. He starts with his hair while he spots Mark washing his body from across the water.

Donghyuck knows that he should probably clean his back, so he tries to reach back and get soap there, but he can’t quite reach.

“Can I help?” Mark asks, making Donghyuck’s head shoot up. Mark has a hand outstretched, and Donghyuck hesitates for a split second before tossing his washcloth over to him. “So do all of these scars have stories?” Mark asks gently, making his way across the shallow pool to float next to him. Donghyuck nods as Mark carefully begins to wash his palm. “Can I ask you about some of them?”

“Be my guest,” Donghyuck mumbles, letting Mark turn his arm as he inspects the imperfections in his skin. The prince gingerly scrubs at the dirt under Donghyuck’s nails, but his eyes are trained on his wrist.

“East India Trading Company?” Mark eyes the brandon the inside of his wrist before carefully going over it with the cloth. 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck almost sighs the word out. “It happened while I was still on _The Eve_.” He deliberately leaves out the fact that Renjun was the one to give him the scar. That isn’t something Mark needs to know. At least not yet. 

“How old were you?”

“I…” Donghyuck frowns, thinking about it for a moment. “I couldn’t have been more than twelve. It was within my first few years aboard the ship.” Mark hums and slowly works his way up Donghyuck’s arm with the cloth.

“What about this one?” He thumbs over a pair of crisscrossing scars on his shoulder, forming a razor-thin ‘x’ on the top of his bicep. Donghyuck hums contentedly as Mark continues to drag the washcloth over his skin.

“I got those from a set of twins I met in Tortuga, actually. They tried to swindle me out of my ship and weren’t particularly subtle about it, so I drew my sword and challenged them.

“You fought off the two of them?” Mark makes an incredulous noise, his eyes darting up to Donghyuck’s for a split second before they go back to his skin.

“They weren’t all that skilled, I suppose.” That was a blatant lie—those twins had been the most feared and skilled pirate captains in the Atlantic until Donghyuck came along and dethroned them, but Mark doesn’t have to know that. Mark halts his movements just long enough to raise an eyebrow, clearly knowing that Donghyuck is holding something back, but he just shrugs off Mark’s questioning gaze.

“So what about this one then?” Mark drags the cloth gently over Donghyuck’s clavicle where a thicker, more jagged scar resides, stretching out from across his shoulder and down to his sternum. Donghyuck closes his eyes as Mark delicately wipes across the length of the scar.

“Ah,” he takes a moment to steady his voice before is breaks. “That one came from a little encounter with a group of bounty hunters that I ran into on one of my earlier trips to Singapore when I first became my own captain.”

Mark’s fingers leave the folds of the cloth to dip into the hollow of Donghyuck’s collarbone, tracing the nooks and crannies, humming along to the pirate’s words as he describes the confrontation with the bounty hunters, and how he and Jisung have nearly identical scars from when the younger had been held captive and Donghyuck had to rescue him despite being the very person the hunters were after.

Mark traces the scars from his clavicle down the center of his chest with a light touch, running his fingertips along the pale lines that decorate Donghyuck’s body, each representing one of dozens of stories and adventures that he has experienced already. Donghyuck opens his eyes when Mark thumbs over one of his more recent scars that marks the line from where his ribs part all the way down to his navel, his hand dipping below the water to follow the line all the way down to its end.

“And this?”

Donghyuck recounts the story of the last expedition he had been on before he and Mark had met the last time: the unhappy merchants he had tricked out of quite a bit of money had found out a little bit sooner than they were supposed to and came after him. They chased Donghyuck to the edge of the pier, their swords pointed at his chest while he was unarmed because he had been trying to stay undercover. As soon as one of them had made a lunge towards him, he had let himself fall backwards off of the pier into the water so he could swim out to the awaiting the  _Helios_ , but he had moved just a split second too late, giving the sword time to scrape up the center of his torso.

“Mark,” Donghyuck breathes, almost a warning but he is a little too lost in the sensation, a little too caught up in the moment, to make it sound like much of a threat. Mark slowly retracts his hand, looking back up at Donghyuck with wide eyes.

“And you’ve survived all of these?”

Donghyuck looks at him, dubious of whether he is actually serious or not.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Mark chuckles, putting his hand back on the washcloth that is still slung over Donghyuck’s shoulder, having gone untouched for a moment.

“Turn so I can get your back?” Mark offers, and Donghyuck nods, shifting so he can get better access to it. The moment he turns his back fully, the washcloth freezes, and Donghyuck looks over his shoulder to see Mark’s eyes trained on the skin there, mouth hanging open slightly.

“What is it?”

“I did this…?” Mark traces a finger down his back from his shoulder blade down to his breeches, and Donghyuck belatedly realizes that Mark is seeing the scar that he had given him for the first time. Donghyuck hasn’t looked at the scar in quite a while, only using what he could feel alongside Renjun’s updates whenever he forces Donghyuck to sit down so he can take a look at it to discern how well it is healing.

“Indeed,” Donghyuck hisses, arching his back away from Mark’s touch when he pressed too hard on a tender spot. Mark jerks his hand back as if he was burned by the scar.

“I’m so sor—”

“Don’t apologize,” Donghyuck grits out, letting the pain ebb away before he relaxes enough to let Mark wash his back. “Things were different.”

“It still doesn’t excuse the fact that this was inflicted by me and you’re still in pain because of it.” Mark seals his lips into a hard line, his eyes concentrated on the path the washcloth is taking.

“It’s just another story to tell, Mark.” He smiles back over his shoulder. “You’re more worried about it than I am.” He catches a glimpse of Mark’s brows drawing together before he disappears from view. Donghyuck does his best to unwind the tension in his muscles as he lets Mark scrub all of the dirt and grime away.

Mark pulls away, gliding through the water so he and Donghyuck are facing each other again.

“You’re all set,” Mark murmurs with a half smile, letting one last touch linger on Donghyuck’s skin before he withdraws completely and submerges himself underwater. He comes back up a moment later, letting out an exhale as he quickly runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m good to get out now.”

“You are _not_ good to get out yet,” Donghyuck scoffs. “Come here.” Mark’s expression is confused but his eyes are curious, so he drifts back over to him.

“Why?”

“Just hush and turn around,” he instructs, and Mark hesitates for a beat before turning around just in front of him. Donghyuck sighs and tugs Mark back by the shoulders so he can comfortable reach his head.

“What are you— _oh_.” The moment that Donghyuck’s fingers start massaging away all of the dirt and soot that have a nasty habit of blending into his dark hair, Mark’s words cut off into an exhale.

“Stay still,” Donghyuck commands. “Your squirming isn’t making anything easier.”

“Sorry,” Mark mutters, sitting as still as he possibly can. “It feels quite weird.”

“Get over it, I’m trying to help you get clean,” he huffs back, but makes sure that his movements become a bit gentler. Donghyuck cards his fingers through Mark’s hair carefully until he is sure that it is grime-free. “The goal is to have you looking like a respectable prince by the end of this, not like a scruffy pirate who has been at sea for too long.”

“So my goal is to not look like you?” 

“No, the goal is to not look like Jeno,” Donghyuck bites back with a laugh, finding that Mark shivers a bit when he moves his fingers in circles and he leans into the touch more than he has been before. Donghyuck has to pry himself away from Mark and his soft locks and his unknowing compliance to his fingertips. “Alright. Just duck your head under again and you’ll be good to go.” His voice shakes a little more than he had hoped for, but Mark doesn’t seem to notice.

Mark just does as he is told and shoots Donghyuck a nearly blinding smile when he re-emerges, wiping the water from his eyes.

“Thank you.” Donghyuck nods.

“You too.” 

The silence stretches around the bath house, thin and uncomfortable and suffocating until Mark speaks again.

“I’m turning into a prune–” he wiggles his wrinkled fingertips in the air, “–so I’m going to get out.” Donghyuck looks at his own hands to see that his skin has puckered and folded under the excess moisture.

“Same here.”

Mark flashes him another smile before swimming over to the other side of the pool where he had entered. Donghyuck nearly chokes when he catches a glimpse of Mark getting out and averts his eyes right away, but the image of Mark’s waterlogged breeches, now somewhat transparent and clinging to every inch of his muscled lower half has etched itself into his mind. 

While Mark is busy drying himself off, Donghyuck scrambles out of the pool, nearly slipping on the floor in his hurry to get to the towel that is folded up by his discarded clothes. He dries off his hair and his torso before quickly shedding his soaking wet breeches and quickly wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Are you decent?” Donghyuck calls, not daring to turn around until Mark responds.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, taking that as the signal to turn around. Mark is standing there, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and his own clothes, along with Donghyuck’s borrowed jacket, folded neatly in his arms as opposed to the unorganized bundle of fabric that Donghyuck has clutched in his hands.

“Shall we call for Xiaojun? He can bring us to our rooms to get ready for dinner.”

Donghyuck nods numbly, looking anywhere but directly at Mark as he begins to lead the way out, but Xiaojun is already at the entrance, ready to take them back.

“I trust you had a good bath? You already look much more presentable,” Xiaojun comments, although his words seem more like a stated fact than an insult of any kind. “Although I’m sure you would appreciate two separate rooms, there is only one available because of the ball preparations. Will that suit your needs, your highness?”

Mark looks ready to argue for a moment, but Donghyuck doesn’t want to impose and cause any sort of a fuss even though Mark _is_ the prince.

“It’s fine, thank you.” He smiles at Xiaojun, surprising the servant since he wasn’t the one addressed. “I’m sure it will suit our needs.” Xiaojun looks somewhat relieved and leads them inside the mansion through the back door and up the staircase to a large suite at the end of a hallway. 

“I can take your clothing and it will be washed overnight so you have it available for your journey away whenever you choose to leave,” he tells them, opening the door to the huge room. “I have laid out formalwear for you both on the bed. Hendery will be waiting down in the dining room, and you may come join him whenever you are dressed.”

Donghyuck steps inside the room behind Mark, He barely registers Xiaojun taking the bundle of clothes from his arms and exiting until the soft click of the handle sounds from behind him. The bedroom is nicer than anything Donghyuck has ever laid eyes upon, with its enormous bed adorned with silk sheets and the evening sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains that flutter in front of the large open windows.

It’s all just a little too much that when he finally sets his sights on the carefully laid out formalwear for him on the right side of the bed, his breath is nearly taken away. It isn’t too far off of a full admiral’s ceremony uniform, something that he has only seen in sketches in books, but the regality that it holds is still unlike any clothing Donghyuck has ever cared to touch before.

“I’ll change in the adjacent room so you can have some privacy.” Mark excuses himself before Donghyuck can stop him, scooping up his own clothing before Donghyuck can get a glimpse of what it looks like and he slips out of the room without another word.

Donghyuck bites his lip as he carefully picks up the dark blue jacket, questioning every single event that has led him to be here right now, handling such precious clothing. He can only be grateful that his hands are clean as he carefully puts on the clothes, all of the expensive fabrics feeling foreign against his skin. He wishes that he could just put back on his old leather coat from Yixing and call it a day, but he steels himself and puts on the gold-embroidered admiral’s coat. He has a role to play and a job to do, and he isn’t planning on screwing it up.

He is mildly surprised when the boots at the foot of the bed fit him, but he realizes that all of the clothing must have been made to Mark’s size, and he takes a second to be thankful that they have nearly the same build and stature, otherwise this could have been a huge disaster. He tugs on the boots and straightens his jacket once more before walking out of the room.

The next door is closed and there is some small shuffling noises coming from the inside, so Donghyuck knocks gently with the intent to let Mark knows that he is ready and he will wait for him, but the growl from his stomach makes him change his mind last minute.

“Mark?” Donghyuck calls through the door, unsure. 

“Uh,” comes the response. “Don’t come in.” A thud and a pained squeak follow, and Donghyuck almost neglects Mark’s instructions and enters anyway to make sure he isn’t hurt.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just—” Mark sighs so loudly that Donghyuck can hear him through the door. “Nevermind. What do you need?”

“I just came to tell you that I’m going to head down to the dining room, and,” Donghyuck pauses to catch his breath. He doesn’t even know why he needs to catch his breath. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good,” Mark rushes out, and Donghyuck clenches his hand into a fist to keep his fingers from going to the handle of the door. He nods once, feeling very foolish because Mark can’t see him, then he turns on his heel to go down the hallway.

He is surprised to discover that he remembers his way back to the foyer, and even more so when he enters the dining room just off of the main entrance to see a man in a rich green suit kissing the living daylights out of Xiaojun. Donghyuck politely clears his throat from the entryway and they jump apart.

“Hendery?” Donghyuck guesses, and the man in the suit flashes him a smile while fixing his hair before bowing his head in acknowledgement.

“Welcome, admiral,” Hendery says, spreading his arms to gesture to the room, “to my humble abode.”

“‘Humble’ isn’t quite the word that comes to mind,” he snorts. “But thank you anyway. It is appreciated.”

Hendery tugs Xiaojun closer to him by the shoulders, busying himself with fixing the servant’s collar as he peers at Donghyuck curiously. 

“Where is Mark?”

“He is, um,” Donghyuck peeks back around the archway that leads into the dining room so he can see the staircase, but there is still no sign of Mark. “He’s still getting ready.”

“Of course he is.” Hendery shakes his head, rolling his eyes playfully. “Princes, I know,” he scoffs, but the wide grin on his face tells Donghyuck that there are no true feelings of spite at play here. Hendery then dismisses Xiaojun with a timid kiss to the cheek and a sheepish smile thrown at Donghyuck when the servant leaves, blushing all sorts of pink colors from the neck up. 

Donghyuck just waves him off with a small smile, then averts his gaze to examine the silverware on the table when Hendery takes the expression as an invitation to rush after Xiaojun and pin him against the wall to kiss him some more. The servant finally manages to pull away from Hendery with a weak hit to his shoulder and he hurries out of the room before Hendery can catch him again.

“Should I send someone to fetch Mark?” Hendery asks, and Donghyuck looks back over to see him fanning his own flushed cheeks and adjusting the neckline of his shirt. 

“No need,” Donghyuck hears Mark call from the top of the staircase, and when he looks over, he nearly chokes on his own tongue. “I’m here.”

Mark is dressed in the most regal attire that Donghyuck has ever seen. It’s a deep scarlet colored velvet coat with gold embroidery that makes even Hendery’s beautiful dark green coat pale in comparison. Donghyuck can see that even his white shirt underneath is stitched with shimmering gold thread, and the polished back boots that he is now wearing have metallic designs sewn into them. It’s clothing fit for a prince, quite literally, and Donghyuck has to turn his gaze away from Mark and back to the silver spoon clutched tightly in his hand before he drops his jaw or something equally cliché.

“Mark! How good to see you!” Hendery exclaims, skipping across the room and past Donghyuck’s frozen figure so Mark can see him.

“Hendery!” Mark’s eyes light up and he finally stops looking at Donghyuck. “It’s been so long!” He rushes down the stairs to leap forward and pull Hendery into a tight hug that nearly sweeps him off of his feet. They talk amongst themselves for a moment before realizing that Donghyuck is still in the room and they’re both being impolite.

“Shall we eat?” Hendery claps Mark’s shoulder, steering him to a place at the table adjacent to the end where Hendery’s glass has already been sipped out of. Donghyuck quietly assumes a place at the table directly across from Mark. Mark’s stomach grumbles in response, loud enough to make both him and Hendery laugh. “You’ve had a long journey. Sit, please, and the food will be brought out.”

As soon as the words are said, a series of servants file out of a door that Donghyuck assumes leads to the kitchen, each carrying silver trays of all sorts of foods that Donghyuck has never seen in his entire life, despite being so well-traveled. He isn’t sure what to dig into first, but over the course of the meal he makes a point to try everything, and he discovers that the grey stuff that he had been a bit skeptical of at first turns out to be delicious.

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come, but I decided to go ahead and make preparations for your arrival anyway given your tendency to show up to events unannounced,” Hendery says pointedly, folding his napkin neatly in his lap. Mark winces in a way that makes Donghyuck assume that he is referencing a specific instance or two.

“My apologies,” Mark says. “I didn’t know if I would be able to come, but thank you so much for making the preparations anyway.”

“I also didn’t know if you would be arriving as the prince or the admiral, so I made it possible for you to arrive comfortably as either,” Hendery pauses to eye Donghyuck. “However, I must say that I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Ah,” Mark exhales, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a long story.” Hendery lazily gestures to the clock on the other side of the room. 

“I have nowhere to be until tomorrow evening. Tell me everything.”

“My name is Captain Haechan and I am working with Mark to take down a different pirate captain named Taeyong,” Donghyuck delivers, not wanting to unnecessarily relive the past several days since he and Mark had met up in Tortuga. 

Hendery drops his dessert fork.

“You’re _who_?” He turns to Mark. “And you’re _what_?”

“His name is—” Mark starts but Hendery waves a hand to quiet him. Donghyuck wants to laugh at the mildly offended expression that Mark shoots him back.

“I know _who_ he is, Minhyung, that was rhetorical.” Hendery rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to figure out why you chose the pirate you’ve hated since you were seventeen, of all people, to work with.”

“We have a common enemy,” Mark explains, dragging his fork through the remnants of his dessert without any intention of actually eating it. Donghyuck is tempted to make a comment about how princes shouldn’t play with their food, but he understands that now probably isn’t the right time, especially with the way that offhand comment about Mark hating him makes his stomach churn and his brows furrow.

“This new pirate has been destroying some of the King’s property, and Haechan has his own reasons for his vendetta against him.”

Donghyuck loathes how Mark easily refers to Pearl Bay, his home, as nothing more than “the King’s property,” but he swallows his discomfort to focus on the matter at hand.

“He burned down my home and I will not hesitate to burn him right back,” Donghyuck says simply, his own dessert still lying untouched in front of him from where Xiaojun had placed it just before the conversation started. Hendery raises an eyebrow and Donghyuck can feel Xiaojun’s gaze burning into the back of his head.

“What do we know about this Taeyong?” Hendery asks, easily changing the topic.

“Not much to be honest, other than the fact that he is looking for the Isle of the Lost Sun.” Mark sits up straighter. “Which is actually why we are here, Hendery. We need to know as much about the Isle as we can.”

“To be perfectly frank, I don’t even know that much.” Hendery scratches at his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “I might have some more helpful information in my travel journals, which I can scour tonight and get back to you on tomorrow when I see you for the celebration.” 

“That would be great, thank you.” Mark drums his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “We still have time.” 

“Oh! While we’re speaking of the celebration, I have something you might be interested in wearing since you are attending as the prince.” Hendery pushes his chair back. “One of your father’s old crowns.”

“What? No. No way.” Mark shakes his head. “That is a very symbolic thing and I’m still ages away from becoming King… Kunhang come on…”

“I’m not going to hear your excuses, Minhyung.” Hendery tugs Mark up by his elbow. “If you are going to show up as the crown prince of England, you had damn well better look like it.”

Mark reluctantly goes to follow Hendery out of the room, still letting out weak protests. Donghyuck doesn’t know whether or not to follow them, so he assumes that he shouldn’t and begins to pick at his dessert uninterestedly. Eventually his eyes land on Xiaojun and his eyebrow quirks up in interest.

“So you and Hendery, huh?” He leans his elbows on the table, steepling his chin in his hands. The tips of Xiaojun’s ears go red, but his voice is steady when he responds.

“You saw what happened yourself. I do believe that you are more than clever enough to draw your own conclusion.”

“Oh, I’m sure that I could.” Donghyuck leans forward. “But it would be so much more interesting to hear it from you.”

“What does it seem like to you?” Xiaojun scoffs, not expecting Donghyuck to actually give him a response.

“Like you two aren’t in a committed relationship, yet are making out quite often and are still managing to dance around each other in that regard,” the pirate deduces easily after having paid attention to their interactions.

“So it would seem.” Xiaojun nods, unbothered by Donghyuck’s analysis. “Not unlike you and the crown prince then?”

“No, that’s nothing like me and the crown prince.” He bites his lip, slumping a bit. “There is no ‘me and the crown prince’ even.”

“Yet it seems as if both of you want that to change?” The servant offers after a moment, and as much as the observation takes him aback, he doesn’t show it. He just hums thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on his cheek.

“And so it would seem.” Donghyuck repeats the same line that Xiaojun gave him earlier just as Hendery and Mark’s voices drift into the dining room, filled with laughter. Donghyuck swivels in his chair to scold them for taking so long, but the words die on his lips when he sees Mark.

It’s not even that big of a difference, yet the simple placement of the crown on Mark’s head somehow changes his whole appearance and it steals the breath right out of Donghyuck’s lungs. 

Mark stands taller—more regal, if that’s even possible. He is no longer fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, which means that he is comfortable as a royal, he’s in his element. Donghyuck can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy but he shoves it right back down to where it came from before his brain has the chance to process it.

But _by the King_ , Mark looks good. It’s not something he would ever admit out loud, but _still_. Mark is simply stunning, whether he is the admiral or the crown prince, and Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off of him. That, however, brings him back to reality and a slight problem.

“Haechan?” Mark is frowning at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” Donghyuck flashes him a small smile and gives himself a mental pat on the back for keeping his voice from breaking. “Just trying to figure out what that ugly piece of metal is.”

Mark makes an abhorred noise, and Donghyuck is instantly annoyed at himself for finding it so endearing. If he could take back that mental pat on the back from earlier, he would. He blames the fatigue.

“This is the crown my father wore to his coronation ball, and his father before that, and so on. It is the crown I will wear when I have my own celebration for becoming King,” Mark defends. “It’s not worn to the ceremony itself, but it is the more toned-down headpiece that a King or Queen would wear to represent their new status as they celebrate both with their court and with their subjects.”

“Sounds positively _riveting_ ,” Donghyuck snorts. He makes sure to leave his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. “On the other hand, it’s quite rude to leave another guest alone for such an amount of time, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop abandoning me in favor of old pieces of metal.”

Mark rolls his eyes but snags the chair that is closest to him. Unfortunately for Donghyuck, it’s directly across from him again since he and Hendery had been slowly moving back around the table as they had been speaking. That means that every time Donghyuck looks up, he has to keep seeing Mark in that damn crown.

It’s almost unnerving how cool, confident and collected the usually short-tempered and socially inept Mark Lee appears when someone puts a crown on his head and calls him a prince—which, Donghyuck has to remind himself, Mark actually is. It’s still weird to think about, but as Donghyuck takes a glance across the table to where Mark is talking animatedly with Hendery, his eyes wide and shining brighter than the crown itself, he thinks he can get used to it. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me for the evening, I need to rest before the ball tomorrow, I’m sure you understand.” Hendery claps his hands together. “I promise that I will go through my journals and talk with you both again about the Isle when we have the time.”

Hendery walks over to press a sweet kiss to Xiaojun’s lips before he heads across the foyer and down a hallway where Donghyuck finally loses sight of him. There is silence when it’s just Mark and Donghyuck and the servant left in the dining room until Xiaojun speaks.

“I will show you to your room where I have left some nightwear out for the both of you,” he says, already leading the way out of the dining room and is halfway up the staircase when Donghyuck and Mark finally catch up to him.

Both Mark and Donghyuck murmur their thanks to Xiaojun before he slinks off down the hallway, disappearing into the darkness as Mark closes the door behind them.

“I’m just happy that my uniform is finally getting washed,” Mark comments offhandedly.

“You can thank me when we get back and you’re actually wearing it again,” Donghyuck replies, scanning the room. Xiaojun failed to mention exactly where he had left the nightwear for them, so Donghyuck begins to search for a candle since their current light source is the moonlight through the windows. Mark seems to notice what he is doing and follows suit.

“I found the clothes,” Mark calls out after a few moments and Donghyuck gives up his search. Mark hands him a neatly folded set of clothes, and Donghyuck accepts it quickly, nodding in thanks before going off to the opposite corner of the room to get changed. 

He must have tried to get the jacket off too quickly, though, because it stretches his back a little more than he is comfortable with, and he hisses through his teeth when his scar burns. Mark comes over, and without a word, carefully helps him out of it, one sleeve at a time.

Donghyuck doesn’t realize it until he turns around to shoo Mark away, but he’s already half-undressed, so Donghyuck has to use every ounce of willpower in him to not stare at the bare torso right in front of him. Mark then, with no warning, tugs Donghyuck’s shirt off for him. He chokes down a gasp when Mark trails his hands across the skin of his chest before he takes it upon himself to help Donghyuck into his nightshirt as well.

Mark is meticulous about how he buttons it up and straightens the collar, smoothing his hands over the now-clothed planes of Donghyuck’s chest as if he’s trying to map it out and remember the exact placement of each of the scars on his body. While he is distracted, Donghyuck snags Mark’s shirt from where he dropped it and returns the favor, slowly buttoning up Mark’s shirt. It gives him an excuse to check Mark out.

If Mark notices, he doesn’t say anything.

When they both part once again to get fully dressed, Donghyuck turns around and really registers the fact that there is one bed in the room. As much as they have shared before, that was due to Mark being delirious with sleep, of course, and Donghyuck isn’t sure he is ready to jump into that quite so voluntarily. 

Donghyuck looks over and can see that Mark is visibly having the same debate in his head, fighting with whether or not he should sleep on the floor. Before Mark can act first, Donghyuck is already at the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and a blanket and curling up on one of the cushy chairs in the corner of the room next to a window.

Mark opens his mouth, presumably to argue, but Donghyuck just shakes his head to indicate that he isn’t going to change his mind. He takes a deep breath, exasperated, but climbs into the bed anyway, snuggling himself under the covers until his breathing slowly evens out.

Yet now Donghyuck can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired he has been feeling. He sighs, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and gets up from out of the chair, careful to not make any noises that would be loud enough to wake Mark up. He buries his chin into the soft fabric and paces the room in an attempt to tire himself out, but after only a couple of lengths, Mark speaks up.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is a little groggy but his words are clear enough to make Donghyuck stop walking.

“You have quite the dirty mouth when you’re tired,” Donghyuck teases, but the tired glare that Mark shoots him is enough to make him back down, raising his hands placatingly. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” Mark snaps, but his voice softens. “Can you not sleep?”

“Doesn’t matter. Go back to sleep, Mark.”

“Praise be upon the King, help me now,” Mark mutters, flopping backwards onto the pillows and closing his eyes. “Come here, Haechan.”

Donghyuck walks to the side of the bed opposite Mark, wary of what he wants, but Mark cracks an eye open to see where Donghyuck is before he nearly lunges to grab him.

“Hey! What are you—Mark!” Donghyuck complains, trying to struggle out of Mark’s grip—which he could do easily under better circumstances, but his muscles are so tired and Mark is so warm and inviting.

“Shut up and sleep,” Mark murmurs into Donghyuck’s shoulder as he curls himself around the captain’s back to hold him there, worried that he will try and escape. Mark ends up falling asleep again nearly right away, his breath slowing to small, warm puffs on the side of Donghyuck’s neck.

Donghyuck is scared for a moment that he will stay up even longer because of their proximity, but that isn’t the case at all. In fact, he feels his eyelids getting heavier with each passing second and his mind slowly begin to quiet down. The low hum of the cicadas outside and the steady beating of Mark’s heart convince him to close his eyes, and before he even knows it, Donghyuck slips into a completely dreamless slumber for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vip of this chapter: the dessert that probably is really good but no one ate. you are the true hero here.
> 
> also sorry for any mistakes still chilling in there,,, both my sister and i went over it but it's also 8k so there's a high chance of something being left in there bc i wrote most of this chapter between the hours of 1 and 5am
> 
> (you guys aren't Ready for the next chapter,,, and that's all i'm saying on the subject until i post it,,, but you can go follow my twt for lots of spoilers bc i have approximately zero self control)


	11. Divide & Conquer (But It's the Other Way Around)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is for shéa ([@chainbelt](https://twitter.com/chainbelt)) for being the sweetest, most supportive author buddie ever and for writing only The Best kiss scenes that i mayhaps went back and referenced for inspiration when i wrote this chapter,,, i love you my darling
> 
> also,,,, this chapter is Entirely Too Long and,,, you all told me to stop apologizing for long chapters but,,, guys this is over TEN THOUSAND WORDS,,,, that's like an entire two short fics,,, i'M LITERALLY SO SORRY
> 
> you all are going to hate me after this but at least there are kisses :D

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**Port Royal**

* * *

 

Mark wakes up with a soft mattress beneath his back and a surprising—but not unwelcome—source of heat on his chest. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that Haechan is the one there, nestled into his arms comfortably and breathing warm puffs of air onto the side of Mark’s neck. He tugs the captain a bit closer and lets himself exhale, relaxed.

“Since you’re awake,” Haechan says suddenly, nearly startling Mark out of his skin, “would you mind letting me go so I can _breathe_?”

He groans but loosens his grip around Haechan just enough that he can roll off of Mark’s chest to lay next to him on the bed. Mark blinks his eyes open, watching as Haechan sits up, the warm golden sunlight filtering in through the curtains and onto his skin. The top two buttons on his shirt have come undone during the night, leaving his collarbone exposed.

Mark wants to turn away, but he can’t. He lays there, wrapped in the blankets, and watches as Haechan raises his arms over his head, stretching far enough to reveal the tan skin around his waist. Mark doesn’t know what kind of otherworldly material Haechan is made out of because the way his velvet-soft, sun-kissed skin absorbs the sunlight and shines back, and nothing that beautiful should be among simple men.

“What time is it?” Mark asks at last, tearing his eyes away from Haechan as he shifts under the covers. His voice is low and gravelly, almost to the point of breaking.

“I have no idea.” Haechan shrugs, tilting his head from side to side as he lets his arms flop back down to his sides. Mark tries not to be too disappointed at how the sliver of toned abdomen disappears back under his slightly oversized nightshirt. “We may want to get up, though.”

“Now why would we want to do that?” Mark responds slowly, snaking his arms back around Haechan’s torso. “We could just stay here for a while and relax.”

Knowing how strong Haechan is, Mark knows that the captain simply lets himself be pulled back down next to him so they are lying face to face, so close that Mark’s breath can ruffle the hair on Haechan’s forehead. 

“We could relax,” he murmurs back, eyes searching Mark’s face. “But there are some other options we have.”

“Oh really?” Mark hums, hoping his heartbeats can’t be heard from outside of his body. “What might those be?”

“We could always—” Haechan starts, but there’s a sharp knock at the door of the bedroom that has them both leaping backwards.

“Prince Mark? Admiral?” It’s Xiaojun, and Mark has to snort at the fact that although Xiaojun is addressing both of the inhabitants of the room, both of those names are technically his titles. “May I enter?”

“Come in,” Mark calls, sending Haechan one last glance before he sits up. 

“Hendery has scheduled both of your suit fittings within the next hour, so it’s best if you both get up.”

Mark doesn’t really have time to respond before Haechan is being whisked out of the room by Xiaojun and he is left there, alone in the cooling sheets because Haechan isn’t there to keep them warm anymore. A moment later, another servant comes in and beckons Mark to follow him. As they walk down the hallways together, the servant explains that it is early afternoon, and there are only several hours until the ball starts.

He is reminded of his younger days, back when he lived in the palace, as he stands there on the pedestal, letting the seamstresses flit about him, worrying over each crease and seam on the clothing. It almost doesn’t feel real, spending so much time dedicating his life to getting away from the palace yet ending up almost assuming his duties as crown prince because he wanted to stay away from this life.

Mark heaves a sigh, knowing that he doesn’t know which side of his life he needs to turn to for help here. The title of admiral has always served him well, from the day he was presented with it, yet lately it hasn’t had as much significance because being on the _Helios_ has stripped away its meaning. Being the prince allows him to make the rules, but then he is bound by a different set of restrictions that couldn’t touch him when he was the admiral. It frustrates him to no end because everything just comes back to Haechan in the end.

He wants to be the prince so he can be honest with Haechan, yet keep him at a safe distance where he is always one step ahead, but being the admiral allows him to be so much closer; it’s close enough to get burned, though, and that is what is holding him back. For Mark, there is no happy medium, no satisfactory place where he can settle somewhere between the two sides of his life and still make it out alive.

Mark swallows down the second sigh he is about to release because he remembers that he is the prince right now, and he has to be on his best behavior because whether he likes it or not, his father will eventually hear about this little excursion and will summon him back to England to have a chat. To say that he is not looking forward to that would be the understatement of the year.

Time flies by and Mark barely takes note of the sun slowly setting over the horizon as he is ushered from room to room, being prepared for the ball meticulously because Hendery has apparently instructed the servants to make sure Mark looks nothing less than the crown prince of England when he descends the stairs tonight, or at least that is what one of the servants quoted their master saying. Mark sees neither hide nor hair of Haechan for the entire day and tries not to let his concern for the captain bubble any higher than it already is.

By the time the start of the ball rolls around, Mark has given up trying to keep his concern from bubbling because he is preoccupied with trying to keep it from flooding his entire system. He paces back and forth across the hallway in front of their room, hand itching to run through his hair, but the crown that lays heavily there blocks the path that his fingers want to take so badly. 

“Hey,” a voice speaks, snapping him out of his mindless pacing. It’s Hendery, dressed in white and gold and concern. “Why aren’t you down there?”

“Why aren’t _you_ down there?” Mark fires back, but there’s no real heat to it. 

“I came looking for you, dumbass.” Hendery takes Mark’s elbow and forcefully guides him down the hallway all the way back to the main staircase. “The crown prince doesn’t get out much, and the fact that he is here has sparked the interest of the royal council.”

“No, Hendery.” Mark wrenches his arm away, stopping both of them. “I’m not here for politics.”

“You decided that for yourself when you put on that crown,” Hendery points out, anxiously glancing down the hallway to where the top of the grand staircase are just visible. “Now, you have to be the prince and play every part that comes along with that title.”

Mark curls his lip in distaste, but follows Hendery to the stairs. He glances at all of the people down in the ball below, takes a deep breath, molds his expression into a wide smile, and descends into the party with grace and dignity. Hendery snorts from behind him and Mark has to hold onto every ounce of willpower that is keeping him from decking his friend right there on the stairs of his own home.

It’s not that difficult to spot the royal council; subtlety never really was their strong suit. There are five of the seven there, which is unsurprising given their age and the rough journey from England, but the ones that are standing in the room are all impeccably dressed from head to toe that just scream “rich old men”. 

With a quick glance at Hendery, Mark makes a beeline toward them, but makes sure to greet everyone along the way who is brave enough to say hello to the prince himself. Mark scans the room as subtly as he can, but he can’t spot any familiar faces aside from the council and a few of the servants. That is a good thing because it’s most likely that no one can pinpoint him as both the admiral and the prince, but it also means that Haechan has yet to arrive.

Mark greets them all by name—which is something that impresses even him because he hasn’t seen any of these men since he was eighteen years old—and does his best to keep up with every topic they throw at him in their discussion. Hendery, standing at Mark’s side, chimes in from time to time with his own thoughts when Mark is lost, but otherwise Mark can’t help but be proud of himself that he hasn’t lost his touch.

There is a sudden stillness to the room that has Mark suffocating, choking over his words, because as he looks back at the stairs once more, Haechan is standing there at the top, speaking with Xiaojun. 

The thing about Haechan is that he always looks stunning, whether it's six years ago in a lantern-lit bar in London or if it's earlier this year when he was bleeding out underneath the blinding sunshine, but today is the first time Mark’s jaw drops when he sees him.

He’s dressed in royal blue, once again, but his hair is styled up off his forehead and he’s wearing a very similar uniform to the one that Mark wore on the day he was promoted to admiral. Dark blue cloth with gold lining and buttons, but nothing glinting on his clothing could ever outshine his bright eyes that dart across the room until they fall upon Mark.

Mark can read lips well enough to tell that Xiaojun just tells Haechan something along the lines of “blend in” before the servant gives him a gentle push toward the stairs. Haechan looks like he wants to talk back, but Xiaojun is already gone, slipping away back down the upstairs hallway. 

As he descends the stairs and gets closer, Mark can see that there’s something dark smudged around the edges of his eyes and there’s a new air of confidence that he has adopted, most likely in hopes to help himself seem like all of the other haughty, rich people in the room—all of whom are staring at the “admiral” walk down the stairs like he owns the entire mansion himself. 

There is nothing stopping Mark from shamelessly scanning Haechan up and down, and he can’t help but think just how beautiful he looks in admiral’s clothing. He wonders how things might have been different if Haechan had gone to the navy and become the admiral while Mark had followed his royal duties and continued on as prince instead of turning his back the moment his father gave him an inch of leeway.

He has to force himself off of that train of thought. This is reality. The reality where Haechan chose to join _The Eve_ at age ten and Mark abandoned his title of prince, albeit temporarily, to let himself feel freedom at sea. Besides, Mark is sure that Haechan can’t look this gorgeous in any of his fantasies. The real him, imperfections and scars and all, is what Mark wants. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Haechan makes it to the bottom of the staircase and Mark makes a move to go to him, but Hendery puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

“The royal council would like to know your opinion on the subject, my prince,” Hendery presses gently, a reminder that Mark has duties right now. Mark tries to focus on the conversation, _he really does_ , but he can’t take his eyes off of Haechan for more than a few moments at a time. “Minhyung? Focus perhaps?” Hendery teases lightly, whispering the words into Mark’s ear so the council can’t overhear.

Mark grits his teeth and tears his eyes away from Haechan, who has made his way over to a table set up with drinks, and turns his attention back to the council. It takes every bit of his willpower, but he doesn’t look back at Haechan until after he and Hendery have said their goodbyes and have moved along in the room.

“Nobody has ever made you act this way before, Minhyung,” Hendery comments, taking a sip of wine from a glass that he picked up from Xiaojun a minute ago while Mark searches for Haechan in the crowded ballroom. “You’ve never once let yourself be distracted from your work, yet all it takes is a man in your uniform to throw you out of sorts?”

Mark isn’t really listening because he has spotted Haechan on the other side of the room as he brings a crystal glass to his lips, taking a sip of the scarlet wine inside. He hums noncommittally in response and it makes Hendery laugh loud enough to garner attention from some nearby guests—or at least more attention than the host and the prince of England already have here.

“We’ll talk about the Isle later, okay?” Hendery chuckles, clapping Mark on the shoulder. “I would offer to speak on the subject now, but I think you’re a little too distracted.”

“I’m a little too what?” Mark turns to Hendery, not having caught what he just said, but Hendery just shakes his head with a smile.

“Go get him, Mark.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Mark takes long strides just outside of the dancing area of the ballroom, politely brushing off the few people who try and stop him to introduce themselves. Haechan doesn’t notice Mark until he speaks, too busy downing an entire glass of wine in one gulp.

“You do know that when Xiaojun said ‘blend in’, that wasn’t an invitation to down glasses of fine wine like they’re shots,” Mark chuckles, startling him. “You’re not even tipsy yet.”

“Excuse me for not knowing how to blend in,” Haechan huffs as he turns around, letting Mark take his most recent glass from his hands before he can drink that one, too.

“This is a _ball_ , Haechan,” Mark deadpans. “You’re supposed to dance.”

“Hell no,” he snorts, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket. “And besides, it’s not even like I know _how_.”

“Let’s fix that then.” Without any further warning, Mark grabs Haechan’s wrist and drags him out onto the dance floor just as the string quartet strikes up another song. Mark easily identifies it as a waltz, but Haechan looks so lost it’s almost comical. He directs Haechan’s hands to his shoulders while he places his own palms on the captain’s waist, then begins to move his feet to the music.

“What are you doing?” Haechan hisses.

“Just follow my lead,” Mark whispers back before taking larger, more confident steps like the style calls for. Haechan doesn’t stumble, but he gets dangerously close to stepping on Mark’s feet several times before he finally begins to get the hang of things. Surprisingly enough, not a single soul questions why two men are dancing together, but Mark supposes that no one has the real desire to ask the prince and his admiral.

The song ends much too quickly for Mark’s taste, and he holds onto Haechan’s waist a little longer than necessary before letting go and stepping back. Neither of them take much notice of the fact that they are the only two on the dance floor at this point.

“Now that wasn’t so hard.” He smiles but Haechan just rolls his eyes before reaching out once more and tugging Mark closer by his waist. Mark has to grip Haechan’s shoulders to keep himself steady, and his fingers meet behind his head, the tips of his fingers brushing against the base of Haechan’s neck. 

“You got a haircut,” Mark observes rather unnecessarily, brushing a thumb across the back of Haechan’s neck where the hairs are sheared a lot closer to the skin before he relaxes his hands onto his shoulders. 

“And you didn’t,” Haechan snips back with a smile as the music strikes up again. Mark doesn’t even have the chance to step first before Haechan is there, already leading. Everything around them disappears and Mark lets the warmth of Haechan’s hands on his waist guide him through the music. No words are exchanged between them as they dance, it’s just Mark following Haechan’s movements as he twirls him around and pulls Mark back into his chest, leaving himself a little more breathless than he probably should be.

The second song ends and there is a light applause, which makes Mark look up from Haechan to see that the entire ballroom is watching them. He feels the tips of his ears heat up as Haechan wraps one arm fully around his waist and leads him off of the dance floor, clearing it for other guests.

“We should talk to Hendery about the Isle.” Haechan leans over to whisper in Mark’s ear, but he can barely process the words over the shiver that travels down his spine. Mark composes himself, but pointedly doesn’t remove Haechan’s arm around him, and leads the way over to a very amused-looking Hendery and an impassive Xiaojun. 

“That was quite the show you put on out there, you two.” Hendery claps his hands slowly.

“The Isle, Hendery.” Mark ignores his statement. “What did your journals say?”

“There was a lot of information there, quite a bit of which I had to refresh myself on while I looked the journal over,” Hendery speaks, his voice so low that Mark can just barely make out his words over the music of the string quartet filling the room. “I went to Pirate’s Cove and met a witch, simply by chance, and he told me legends and tales of such grandeur about the Isle of the Lost Sun that I couldn’t bring myself to believe them at first, but he has proof that it really exists. I can’t tell you what it is, but I can promise you that if you go see him there and prove yourself worthy, he will not hesitate to show you.”

“Why can’t you just tell us?” Haechan asks. “If it’s just an object, just describe it and that will be enough to save us a trip to Pirate’s Cove.”

“Because, my dear admiral, it is beyond words. It is something that you, especially you of all people, has to see for yourself.” Hendery leans into Xiaojun’s side slightly as he talks, and there is a smile that flickers across the servant’s lips when he glances over at Hendery. “But I can tell you that it took me to Pearl Bay when I searched for answers, yet I never found them.”

Haechan looks a little lost for words, clearly hoping to have gotten something better out of him, yet is left nearly as much in the dark as when he arrived here. Mark knows because he feels it too, but he doesn’t have a chance to chastise Hendery on his cryptic words before he is being dragged over to the side by the man himself.

“Would you care to explain why you, Minhyung, the crown prince of England and the Admiral of the Royal Navy, is looking at the most formidable pirate in the Caribbean like he hung the stars?” When Mark splutters instead of giving a response, Hendery just laughs and continues. “I won’t say anything, don’t worry, but it’s best that you do something about it before you don’t have the chance anymore.”

“Hey,” Haechan interjects as he walks over to them. “We still have some stuff to figure out then, Mark.”

“Indeed.” Hendery nods. “That is all of the information I have for you at the moment, but you can figure out everything you need from the witch in Pirate’s Cove, although I do have a warning. I highly considered giving up my search for the Isle when I met Yangyang, and you should be wary of that.”

“I guarantee that I’ve dealt with worse before,” Haechan waves him off.

“Alright, Mister Confident,” Hendery snorts, sending a look to Mark. “Would you care to dance?” 

“I…” Haechan peers at him curiously. “I would like that?” He poses it as more of a question than an answer, but to Hendery, that is more than enough. There is no time for Mark to even think about stopping them before Hendery is already guiding Haechan onto the dance floor.

Back by the side of the room, Mark stands, feeling his blood boil because he is perfectly aware that Hendery is doing this to get a rise out of him—to see if Mark will take that chance with him, take that final step.

“You’re jealous,” Xiaojun states. A simple observation, but an accurate one. Mark doesn’t even bother to try and dismiss the comment because he is right and they both know it. “What are you going to do about it?”

The question takes Mark aback. What _is_ he going to do about this? It isn’t something that his royal training or his years at sea have prepared him for, and he doesn’t like the feeling of being so out of depth. Yet, he surmises, that is what Haechan does to him. Takes everything he knows and shakes it around until it’s something completely different, just to see how Mark would react when he knows he can’t predict the next move. They’ve been playing this dangerous game of chess for years, and tonight is when Mark finally steels himself, ready to put a stop to it.

“I’m going to do this.” Mark takes a deep breath and walks straight onto the dance floor, not bothering with the fact that the song isn’t over and people are still dancing around him, although some have paused to see what is going on. 

He approaches the center of the dance floor where Hendery is holding Haechan’s waist and they are laughing together and has to bite his lip to keep himself from chewing Hendery’s head off for riling him up so much. 

“Hendery,” Mark says calmly, tapping him on the shoulder. “I would like to dance with _my_ admiral now.” He puts the emphasis on _my_ because as far as he is concerned, Hendery shouldn’t have his hands on Donghyuck.

“What the hell do you mean ‘ _my_ _admiral_ ’?” Haechan scowls at Mark. “I’m not anyone’s property, thank you for nothing.”

“I will be taking my leave from this little lovers’ quarrel.” Hendery backs up from Haechan, swooping low into a steep bow. “Thank you for the half of a dance, Haechan, it was delightful.” He excuses himself without a further word and lets Mark easily step in to take his place, none of them too caught up in the fact that neither Mark nor Haechan refuted the term ‘lovers’ quarrel’.

Mark’s hands find home on Haechan’s waist and they fluidly begin moving to the music once more. There is a moment of silence between them before Haechan finally speaks.

“So what was that little objectifying comment all about?” Haechan raises an eyebrow, his tone hushed to keep the other dancers from hearing him. “Care to explain?”

“I’m—” Mark starts to apologize but stops himself, remembering who he is speaking to. “Hendery did it to get a reaction out of me, and it worked. I don’t want to see anyone else’s hands on you but mine.” Mark is shocked at his bold words and hopes that a blush doesn’t flare up on his cheeks.

“Oh?” Haechan murmurs to himself, quieting himself for the rest of the song. He lets Mark lead, but slowly gets close enough that their breaths are mingling together easily between them, both a little more labored than they should be, even from just the dancing. Mark is terrified of what might happen next, but as soon as he lets his thoughts drift to bad things, the music stops and Haechan steps away gingerly. “Care to take a walk with me, _my prince_?”

Mark nearly chokes, but takes the arm that Haechan is offering out to him without a second of hesitation. They walk off of the dance floor and slip through the crowd to the back door. Mark takes a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Hendery send him a wink and raise his glass in a toast. Mark wants to both stab him and hug him, and figures he’ll decide which the next time he sees him.

The two of them walk down the back steps together in silence, meandering their way through the back gardens with their only source of light being the moon. The tension between them is so thick it’s stifling.

“So,” Mark starts, drawing out the word slowly as they loop around the side of the mansion where rows of dainty yellow flowers are in bloom. “Did you want to speak with me about something?”

“Not particularly,” Haechan responds simply, and a moment later, Mark finds himself pinned up against the brick wall of Hendery’s mansion, his lips on Haechan’s.

It takes his breath away, but he would rather suffocate himself in this kiss than pull away. He wants to run his hands everywhere over Haechan’s body, but they’re being held against the wall just above Mark’s own head, gripped tightly around the wrists by Haechan’s calloused fingers. 

The position they’re in tugs at the back of Mark’s mind, familiar in an almost uncanny fashion. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s an exact remake of the position that they had been in six years ago outside of Simon’s bar in London. Mark can’t help but laugh a bit into Haechan’s mouth when the thought strikes him, and the captain pulls away, eyes glinting with humor.

“What’s the laugh for?”

“I’m just reminded of Simon’s.” Mark grins. Haechan considers their position, head cocked, before nodding in agreement.

“I see,” he hums, lacing Mark’s fingers with his own above the prince’s head, squeezing them gently, and Mark feels like he’s seventeen all over again. However, there’s something different here this time. There’s an unbridled adoration for each other, having grown over their years apart, that is releasing itself in every breath they take against each other’s lips. Mark grins and takes advantage of Haechan’s momentary distraction to flip them around.

The little gasp that Haechan lets out when his back hits the wall makes Mark’s chest well with something that he doesn’t bother to push back down. Not here. Not now. Not with Haechan looking so beautiful right in front of him. 

So Mark lets it overflow past his lips and tongue, letting the feelings press themselves into Haechan’s skin, leaving the blossoming red marks in his wake, each representing a silent promise for more, the emotions making themselves clear through the patterns that Mark creates.

The look in Haechan’s clear blue eyes tells Mark that he is oh-so-aware of each word that Mark’s lips are placing onto his neck. Mark is completely intoxicated, sipping in Haechan’s very being and letting it consume him from the inside out.

Mark feels the sting from where the back of his hands scraped against the wall, but the pain is dulled in comparison to the overwhelming satisfaction of the little noises that spill from Haechan’s lips—all pleas for more, more, _more_. And who is Mark to deny him? He gives and gives and gives, sucking and biting across his neck and jawline until Haechan has had enough and grasps Mark’s chin between his fingers, bringing their lips back up to meet each other in a searing kiss. 

Haechan is the one pressed against the wall, but he never once backs down. He bites down on Mark’s lower lip, making him gasp and creating an opportunity for Haechan to dive in and leave the rich taste of the wine that he had drank at the ball painted across the inside of Mark’s mouth. 

He lets Haechan press an apologizing kiss to where he had bitten Mark, but the moment when he pulls back to take a breath, Mark’s lips go straight back to Haechan’s neck, all the way back to suck at the sensitive little spot just underneath his ear that makes him squirm and whine. He grins against the skin, nipping at it with his teeth as he received the desired reaction—the sweet little sounds filling his ears as Haechan grapples for purchase on Mark’s shoulders. 

Mark travels upwards, ghosting over the shell of Haechan’s ear, his lips grazing over the coiled gold earring just barely. The cold metal against his lips poses quite the contrast to the addicting heat of Haechan’s skin, the roughness nearly cuts into his wandering lips as opposed to the unexpected softness of Haechan’s lips.

Mark has discovered this interesting pattern of him losing track of time whenever he and Haechan kiss, and he has yet to discover if its a good or a bad thing. He just loses himself in every sensation that Haechan delivers to him, every breath passed between the two of them, every incomprehensible noise that either of them can pull from the back of their throats when the other bites down _just right_. 

It should be more terrifying, how much control Haechan has over Mark when they’re like this, but every touch is gentle, guiding, and so so soft. Every time Haechan licks into Mark’s mouth, he loses his mind just a bit more, and Mark uses the last bit of his willpower to not grab at Haechan’s back in fear of hitting his scar. Instead, he drops down and lays the tiniest butterfly kisses along the column of Haechan’s throat, able to feel his breath hitching just as much as he can hear it.

“Hey.” Haechan finally breathes the first coherent word between them in god-knows-how-long. Mark, though, just hums in reply, traveling back up to capture his lips once more, showing no signs of stopping to listen to what he has to say. “Mark!” Haechan scolds, muffled, when the prince bites down on his lip harshly, but the rest of him tells Mark that he doesn’t really want him to stop, his body arching into Mark’s. “We should— _ah_ —go back to the ship soon.”

“Our crew can wait.” As soon as Mark says it, he realizes that it is the first time he is referring to the two crews as one, as _theirs._ With the way Haechan smiles, noticing the same thing, Mark knows it is more than worth it to do it more often, especially given the ferocity of the next searing kiss that the captain delivers. 

He nearly topples Mark backwards, pushing himself off of the wall to press their chests together and cup Mark’s cheek with one hand, using the other to find purchase in his hair. Instead of being able to grab on, however, all he succeeds in doing is knocking Mark’s crown so far out of place that it tips down over his eyes, resting on the bridge of his nose. Haechan releases him, giggling— _honest to the King giggling_ —as he reaches up to fix it. He brushes the stray hairs off of Mark’s forehead with such unprecedented care given the intensity of their kiss just moments ago, that it startles Mark.

While Haechan takes his time to meticulously fix Mark’s crown, he takes the moment to look, _to really look_ , at Haechan.

He’s gorgeous, just as gorgeous as he was all of those years ago if not more so. His golden skin glows in the caress of the moonbeams and his eyes light up when he sees Mark staring at him, but that doesn’t stop the prince. His gaze travels down Haechan’s face, jumping from freckle to freckle until it finally stops to linger on his lips. Mark can’t help but reach out to run his thumb over them, spit-slickened and red from the excessive time his mouth has spent pressed up against Mark’s own.

Haechan nips playfully at his fingertip and Mark just laughs, moving to hold the captain’s face in his hands. He turns his head slightly to press a kiss into Mark’s palm before closing his eyes and nuzzling into the touch. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Mark murmurs softly, running his fingers along Haechan’s jaw, not wanting to stop touching him in fear that he will just disappear. Haechan drops his hands from Mark’s crown to run up and down his sides instead as they stand there, letting their exhales mingle and disperse as one.

“Neither can I.”

“It seems we’re finally in agreement,” Mark jokes, but it hitches at the end when Haechan’s palms finally rest on his waist for a fraction of a second before Mark is being pulled impossibly closer to him.

“And so it would seem,” Haechan smiles, and they meet in the middle for an achingly sweet kiss that Mark can feel from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He feels Haechan untuck his shirt just enough to be able to rub soft circles into Mark’s bare skin and he shivers. He never wants to pull away, but there is a nagging thought in the back of his mind that he wants, no, _needs_ , to voice.

“Haechan,” Mark breathes, resting their foreheads together. “I think that I’m in—”

He doesn’t get to finish what he intended to say because the firing of a canon breaks them apart. Mark looks into Haechan’s panicked eyes to see his own reflected in them. They scramble away from the side of Hendery’s mansion to the edge of the cliff where they can just barely make out the silhouette of the _Helios_ on the water, but there is now another ship next to it that hadn’t been there before.

“The _Helios_ ,” Haechan whispers, his wide eyes so full of fear that Mark barely has the chance to nod before they take off running.

It’s not that far from Hendery’s mansion to the waterfront, but it’s just long enough that Mark has time for the anxiety and anticipation of what might happen to settle into his bones, trying to weigh him down. Haechan is sprinting in front of him, Mark hot on his heels, so when he abruptly stops just across the clearing from the docks, Mark nearly runs into him and has to reach out to grab around Haechan’s waist to steady himself.

“Why did you st—”

“It’s Taeyong,” Haechan cuts him off, tugging him down to crouch in the tall grass just off the path, hoping that they haven’t been spotted yet.

“How do you know?”

“The ship. It’s just how Seulgi described it.”

Mark looks up, and indeed, it is. Black sails, a rotting hull covered in oysters and a figurehead of a disfigured woman all brought Mark to the same conclusion as Haechan, but his attention is drawn away by something else.

“Look.” He points at the line of people kneeling on the ground just in front of where the _Helios_ is docked. By the looks of it, Taeyong’s crew seems to be holding their crew hostage. 

Haechan turns to Mark, shucking the blue admiral’s coat and quietly instructing him to do the same with his royal coat and crown—which had miraculously not fallen off of his head in the sprint down to the waterfront. Mark nods, understanding, and does as requested. Haechan turns his coat inside-out and folds it over his free arm as he unsheathes the sword from his waist that is purely supposed to be decorative. Mark takes a moment to be glad that Hendery gifted them both swords with their evening attire even though the prince is never supposed to carry weapons. Although it’s not balanced well, having a sword is better than having none at all.

Haechan takes a deep breath and stands up from their hiding place in the tall grass and walks forward, Mark just off to his side. They approach their crew, kneeling on the ground, their hands bound behind them. Taeyong’s crew is just behind them, pointing guns at their heads to assure that none of them attempt an escape. Haechan tosses his coat to the ground to raise his sword fully, and Mark follows his lead.

“Let them go, Taeyong.” Haechan’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest and Mark is impressed. 

There’s a laugh and the hauntingly beautiful man with bright red hair holding two pistols takes one and points it at Haechan, but doesn’t stop pressing the other one against Jisung’s skull. Mark sees Haechan’s grip go white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword, but he gives no other indication of being provoked.

“You, my young captain, are in no place to be making demands,” he says, cocky. “That’s my job here.”

Mark starts forward, but Haechan puts a hand on his chest to stop him, clearly understanding that they need to hear Taeyong out.

“Tell me what you know about the Isle of the Lost Sun or I will not hesitate to blow out the brains of every single one of your crew members.”

“We haven’t learned much of anything yet,” Haechan responds truthfully. Mark knows that they haven’t, but he is aware that it sounds like a blatant lie to anyone else’s ears.

“Then I will kill someone from your crew every time you refuse to give me information.” Taeyong cocks the pistol against Jisung’s head, the click resounding loud and clear. Just as Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, a single tear rolling down his cheek, Haechan jumps in.

“I suppose you wouldn’t like to hear the other clear option there is, then?” Haechan tilts his head almost mockingly. Mark has to bite his lip to keep himself from speaking out against the captain’s risky move, but decides to let him take the lead on this because he is much more well-versed in dealing with pirates without a negative outcome. Taeyong blinks, the firelight from the torches lining the dock illuminate his surprised expression. 

“I’m a bit enamoured by your gall, captain.” Taeyong smiles, rocking back on his heels but never once lowering his aim on either Jisung or Haechan. “What is this ‘other option’?”

“We don’t know anything now, but we will once we go to our next location.” Haechan smirks, confident – almost overly so. “So you can just meet us there, we’ll explain everything, no one needs to get harmed, and we each can go on our merry ways.”

There is a moment of roaring silence, the air thick with something that Mark can’t identify, but he knows something is going to happen and it’s something that he isn’t going to like. The palpable tension stretches over the scene as Taeyong deliberates.

“I’d need collateral,” he says at last. “I’d need to take a crew member of yours as incentive to keep our deal.”

“Take whoever you want,” Haechan says smoothly without missing a beat, and Mark suddenly realizes why he has that feeling in his gut. He twitches to speak up, but Haechan brushes his elbow, giving him a look that implores him to stay quiet. Mark reluctantly yields, going against every inch of his body screaming at him not to trust the captain.

“No, I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.” Taeyong grins, shaking his head. “You have to choose who you want to betray.” He backs up from Jisung, spreading his arms wide, taunting him.

“Take that one.” Haechan’s answer comes too quickly, like he had known what was going to happen, and Mark’s horrified gaze follows where Haechan’s finger is pointing to see Renjun kneeling on the ground with a blank expression. Mark physically startles away from Haechan’s side, shocked by the words that just left his mouth. He understands that they might not get along all the time, but for it to be so severe that Haechan would choose to give him up to a murderer without batting an eye is just too much.

“We will meet at the port of Pirate’s Cove in six days’ time.” Haechan doesn’t leave any room for argument on the subject, simply telling Taeyong straight how it’s going to happen.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, captain.” Taeyong smiles though the words once again, but his eyes are colder than the wind blowing off of the sea, chilling Mark to the bone as he stands at the waterfront. 

Haechan simply nods to him as Taeyong grabs Renjun by the arm and yanks him up. Renjun manages to maintain an impassive expression as he meets Haechan’s eye, seeming to accept his fate as he is dragged across the dock and shoved aboard _The Necromancer_.

There is quiet amongst the remainder of the crew as they watch Taeyong’s ship, along with Renjun, sail off into the distance. Mark vaguely sheathing his sword as Haechan cut the others free before putting his own away as well. It’s not until the ship is nothing more than a speck on the horizon does Mark finally snap out of his shock-induced stupor. He whirls on Haechan, who looks back at him with a blank face.

“You just let him go? How _could_ you? I thought you and your crew were supposed to be family, Haechan!” The more Mark speaks, the more he lets his anger and frustration drive his words. “Do you know what I give, what I would _do_ , to get even a fraction of a moment with my dead crewmates? Yet here you are, giving a brother up because it’s the easy way out? Crews are supposed to stick together!” Mark’s voice has been steadily rising over his little speech, yet Haechan doesn’t back away.

“Well I’m the captain so I guess it doesn’t apply,” Haechan replies dryly, sounding so tired but Mark isn’t here to deliver pity.

“It’s because you are the captain that it counts the _most_!” Mark is astounded by Haechan’s response.

“Set our course for Pirate’s Cove.” Haechan ignores Mark, walking past Jeno and onto the dock.

“So you’re just going to throw his life away like that?” Mark storms angrily after Haechan, refusing to let this go. “Is that all he is to you? Expendable?” 

“If you would just—” Haechan spins on his heel, his expression troubled as he finally meets Mark’s eyes, but the prince just plows on.

“You have no goddamn moral compass,” Mark spits, his blood boiling through every vein in his body. He isn’t anywhere near finished, but Haechan cuts him off before he can go any further.

“In case me wearing the jacket of the admiral made you forget, let me remind you!” Haechan pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, turning his wrist to present his branded skin to Mark. “I’m a _pirate_ , Mark. Always have been, always will be. I’m not some goody-two-shoes sidekick like you have started to make me out to be. This doesn’t exactly have ‘good morals’ in the job description!” Haechan’s voice rises with each word until he is nearly yelling. 

“I haven’t had it all easy either and you know that better than anyone,” Mark hisses, jabbing a finger at Haechan’s chest. “You’re just being a selfish bastard whose parents didn’t love you enough to stick around and teach you some goddamn common sense!” 

The moment the words leave his lips, Mark wants to take them all back. He sees the look of hurt and betrayal pass through Haechan’s features and he knows that he messed up. 

Mark is fully prepared for the yelling that is sure to come, the sword that will be pulled at his throat.

What he isn’t prepared for, however, is the abject silence that he is met with.

Mark swears he sees Haechan’s lip quiver in the slightest before his mouth is drawn into a thin line and he stalks off of the dock to where he tossed down his coat earlier. He scoops it up in his arms and marches straight back over to Mark, thrusting it into his chest hard enough to knock him off balance.

The crown slips out of his fingers from where he had been gripping it underneath his own coat, and he manages to catch it again, but not before it’s too late and the crews have seen it. The collective gasp rippled behind him, and both _The Empress_ and the _Helios_ crews must know what it means. There is only one crown like this, and it resides here in Port Royal for the crown prince to wear at his coronation ball before he becomes King.

“If you can’t live with my decisions, you can find a new ship,” Haechan spits, his glare icy as he ignores the quiet commotion within the crews. The anger has begun to fade out of him, and Mark wants to tell him to wait, to ask him to explain why he did it, but he is too riled up now and all he can do is brace himself for the inevitable.

“Fine.” Mark completely disregards the protests of the crew members on both sides as he makes his decision. Haechan clenches his jaw, eyes glistening in the flickering light of the torches that line the dock, looking so terribly beautiful that it hurts to look at him.

“So here’s what happens next, _Your Majesty_ ,” he starts, and Mark wants to flinch away at the sound of him calling Mark by his royal title because it sounds so undesirable and cold—almost mocking—rolling off of his tongue, unlike the words of warmth and adoration that had passed through his lips earlier. “I stand by our agreement and will work with you for as long as Taeyong remains a threat, but after that all bets are off. I will not hesitate to rip you to shreds if I ever set my sights on you or your crew ever again.”

“It seems as if the feeling is mutual,” Mark sneers back.

“And so it seems,” Haechan says, voice devoid of any emotion.

“And so it seems.” Mark’s reply is equally stony.

Haechan parts his lips almost imperceptibly, but Mark can’t miss it when they’re still this close. It appears for a moment as if he is about to say something, but presses his mouth shut into a thin line instead, narrowing his fire-lit blue eyes. He turns on his heel without a further word to Mark and marches away.

“Let’s go.” Haechan waves his crew to follow him, all of whom do so without hesitation in their feet but with apprehension aplenty in their eyes.

Mark clutches the admiral’s coat tightly in his fist, his eyes following Haechan’s movements as he boards the _Helios_ followed by his four remaining crewmates. The moment the gangplank is drawn back, Mark spins around and starts back up the path to Hendery’s mansion, and he doesn’t have to look back to know that his own crew is right there behind him.

“So what’s the plan, admiral?” Yukhei asks, jogging up beside him. “We don’t have a ship.”

“Hendery can spare one for me. We just need to get to Pirate’s Cove as soon as possible.”

“Mark.” Yukhei catches his shoulder and Mark stops, but doesn’t look back. He acts as if he doesn’t want to face Yukhei, but he knows that if he sees the _Helios_ there at the docks, the pain will settle in sooner. 

“What?”

“Are you in a position to be leading right now?” Yukhei’s eyes are concerned as he steps in front of Mark, forcing their gazes to meet as his grip on his shoulder tightens. Mark simply shakes him off with a nod and a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” He looks at the rest of the crew. “He won’t depart until morning if he stays true to the plan he discussed with me before we left the ship yesterday. We can get a head start if we leave tonight and sail under the moon.” Mark won’t say Haechan’s name, but his crew knows who he is referring to.

“So we go talk to Hendery?” Jaehyun asks, and Mark nods.

“Yes.” He turns back to the mansion where the ball is still being held. “We talk to Hendery.”

There is silence for a moment and none of them move.

“When were you going to tell us?” Yukhei whispers at last, and Mark doesn’t have to request elaboration to know what his best friend is talking about.

“I was going to tell you about my royal heritage when the time was right, but I suppose now you all know out of sheer necessity.”

“And we’re just supposed to take it that you told a pirate about you being the goddamn crown prince of England before your own crew?” Kun steps in, crossing his arms.

“I couldn’t tell you for two reasons.” Mark speaks calmly as he starts to walk again. “One, it would have put you all in so much more danger, not to mention me, because then it’s more people that could accidentally let something slip while drunk or under pressure. Two, because my father, the King as you all now know, made me take an oath that I was not allowed to tell anyone about who I was if I chose to join the navy and pursue a position of power, simply because it would appear as if I was cheating the system.”

“We wouldn’t think that—” Jaehyun starts, but Mark cuts him off.

“But you might have. I didn’t know you at the time,” he sighs. “Trust me, it’s just better like this.”

“So who all knows then?” Yuta asks, clearly displeased. “Are we the last to know out of the people in your life?”

“Before this, there were five people that knew. My father, his advisor, Hendery whom I first knew as a friend from the palace, one of the commanders in the navy, as well as the palace cook. Now you all know, along with him and most likely the rest of his crew at this point, are all in on it.”

“That’s dangerous,” Yukhei warns. “You heard what he said about how he would act towards you once this is over. He might target you since he knows that you’re the prince.”

Mark shakes his head. He doesn’t know why he is so confident that Haechan won’t do something like that, but he can feel it in the bottom of his heart—or at least what is left of it after Haechan ripped it to shreds just moments ago—that he would hold loyal in that regard at the bare minimum.

“He wouldn’t.”

“You still have faith in him after all of this? After he sacrificed a crew member instead of fighting for him?” Yuta squints at Mark, appalled as they approach the door to Hendery’s mansion.

“Unfortunately, I do. That doesn’t mean it will stay, or that I won’t hesitate to tear him apart  if he even deliberates upon threatening to exploit that information.”

Yukhei looks like he is about to say something else on the matter when Mark puts on his coat—he had turned it right-side-out on the walk back—and places the crown on his head gingerly, not remembering it feeling so heavy.

“Just… follow my lead,” Mark instructs before spinning around and pushing the doors straight open, not even bothering to knock. The entire ballroom full of people turns to see who just slammed the main doors straight open and there’s a collective gasp when they see the prince returning with the admiral’s jacket on his arm and the admiral’s crew behind him, but no sight of the man himself.

Mark doesn’t know what speculations the people might be making at the moment, but he doesn’t care, so he marches straight across the ballroom to Hendery, who is rising from his chair in surprise.

“There’s been a development,” Mark says, and he doesn’t know how out of breath he is until he speaks

“Where is the admiral?” Hendery leans forward, eyes wide and concerned, looking from Yukhei to Mark to the crew and back to Mark again. 

“Like I said.” Mark raises the jacket. Hendery puts a hand over his mouth. “There’s been a development.”

Hendery turns to address the onlooking crowd, clears his throat, and announces that the party shall go on, but he has important matters to attend to at the moment. He ushers them all upstairs and into a room that appears to be his study. He shuts the door behind Taeil, who is the last one to enter, then whirls on Mark.

“What the hell happened?” He hisses. 

Mark gives the abridged version of what happened, explaining merely that he and Haechan had gone outside to talk when the canons went off, and they rushed down to find Taeyong at the docks holding both crews hostage. He told Hendery how Haechan had left them there after he’d given up Renjun and Mark blew up about it.

Hendery exhales, long and slow, leaning back in the chair he has plopped himself in during Mark’s recounting of the events.

“You know he might have a perfectly viable reason for why he did that.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right or that I agree with it.” Mark scowls.

“But.” Hendery stands. “That doesn’t mean that there _isn’t_ a reason.”

“Either way,” Yuta breaks in before Mark can argue back again. “What’s done is done.”

“And now we need your help,” Mark adds.

Mark saying that means a lot, and everyone in the room knows it. He’s the type of person to do everything himself without ever asking for help, so the fact that he is voluntarily asking an old friend for a favor is huge. Hendery must know it as he smiles, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“What can I do for you?”

“I need a ship.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“Replacements for anything that was left on board the _Helios_ …” Mark glances back at his crew. “Extra clothes, mostly.”

No one says anything differently—or anything at all, for that matter. Within a matter of hours they are boarding the newly emblazoned _Empress II_ , which Hendery promises is his fastest ship, although not the sturdiest, and it will get him to Pirate’s Cove in a matter of days. They say their goodbyes to Hendery and are sailing out of the harbor on the opposite side of Port Royal.

“Are you going to explain why you got so mad at Haechan?” Kun asks. They are all gathered around the helm with Mark at the wheel.

“I thought I explained that,” he sighs.

“I want to hear it from a level-headed Mark, not whatever that was back there.”

So Mark takes a deep breath and tells them everything.

He talks about how he would do _anything_ to get back the crewmates that he has lost over the years, and Haechan is taking his own for granted by how quickly he gave Renjun away. He didn’t fight for him or look for another way out, or even blink at the prospect of losing someone that Mark has been growing to consider a brother of his own.

“I was just… horrified by it, and it was a wake-up call that he _is_ a pirate and not the man he has been starting to trick me into thinking he is.”

“Mark I get it, I really do,” Yukhei says. “You know that I’d do anything to get Hansol and the men before him back, but maybe there’s something else going on and we don’t understand the whole situation.”

“You still have faith in him?” Mark scoffs. “You’re just like Hendery.”

“You still have faith in him, too,” Yukhei reminds him, giving him a look.

“You may very well be right,” he relents. “But it’s too late to go back now.”

“Promise me that you’ll at least try to see Haechan’s side of things when we meet up in Pirate’s Cove.”

Mark grumbles out a half-hearted agreement before sending the crew off to get some sleep, saying that he will stay out at the helm. There is quiet for a moment on the deck, and Mark lets his actions and words from earlier sink in.

How he and Haechan had finally resolved their differences, even just for a moment, how they found a home in one another’s lips, skin, and heartbeats. Yet to have that all ripped away from mark in an instant is the most terrifying, hollow feeling that he has ever experienced, second only to losing his mother.

Mark dwells on his thoughts of Haechan for a moment longer before a voice brings him back down from trying to figure out how that situation could have gone differently if he hadn’t acted to rashly out of anger.

“Minhyung.” Taeil, of all people, approaches him at the helm. It is long after everyone else has gone below deck to sleep. “Why didn’t you tell them that I knew?”

“It would have just stirred up more trouble, and besides,” Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair. He left the crown in Hendery’s hands before he left, saying that he wants it to stay on Port Royal where he knows it will be safe. “I’ve known you for my entire life and you know me better than anyone else—”

“Do I though, Minhyung? Do I really know you?” Taeil stops him. “Ever since your mother died it’s like no one knows you at all. I was the one who kept you from crying out when I was holding you in that closet when those pirates slit your mother’s throat with the both of us watching and you haven’t been the same since.”

“Taeil, I—” Mark starts to argue, grimacing at the image that Taeil’s words pulled up in his mind, but he keeps going.

“You’ve been unreachable for years, Mark. _Years_ ,” he emphasizes. “I finally had begun to be able to read you again, when? When you were seventeen and you came back from the docks one morning, rambling all about this pirate boy and how you had let him go unscathed and you didn’t know why. That was the first time in eleven years that you’d let yourself show emotions. No matter what you think of him right now, he gave you purpose again.”

“I had purpose!” Mark defends, indignant. Taeil just raises a brow, and crosses his arms.

“Other than you trying to get away from your father by any means necessary, you didn’t have a purpose. And just because he may be gone _right now_ doesn’t mean that he is going to be gone forever, and I will not let you slip back into that emotionless facade that you have had up for so many years. I will not let you push us all away. Not again.”

“I’m not sure that I understand,” Mark says slowly after a moment, trying to process everything. 

“I mean that you love him. You have since you were seventeen,” Taeil speaks gently, taking Mark by the shoulders. “As your honorary father since—don’t you dare tell him I said this because I will deny it to the ends of the earth—the King needs some work in the parenting department, I am telling you to go after him. Yes, you are angry at him at the moment, but that will fade with time. Go to him, explain your side of things, listen to his reasoning. Make up with him and make your heart whole again because I know that’s what he does for you.”

“Alright,” Mark whispers softly. “And Taeil? Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me since I had you as a commander. I’m fully aware that my father has you near me to keep an eye on me, but I truly value your companionship. You give me purpose as well.

Taeil gives Mark a soft smile, brushing his hair off of his forehead and cupping his cheeks gingerly. 

“Goodnight Mark,” he says. “Don’t forget that you are loved.”

“Goodnight, Taeil,” Mark responds simply, watching him disappear back down below deck.

As Mark sails away from Port Royal on the _Empress II_ , there’s a heavy feeling in his heart when he glances back to see the _Helios_ sitting peacefully in port still. If he looks hard enough, there is a silhouette of a figure standing atop the crow’s nest alone, their blue eyes piercing through the night air and straight into Mark’s chest, and if he really thinks hard enough, he swears he can still taste the remnants of bitter wine on his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okayokay i know i said you were going to hate me but pls don't,,, i gave you kisses :(  
> (wait i wanna know your theories about everything now that we've met taeyong pls comment them for meeeeeee)  
> ((i tagged this fic slow burn for a reason, guys))


	12. Cheating the Cheater Because Screw Fair Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i highly debated titling this chapter: "Fellas Is It Heartbreak" and i'm a little mad that i didn't
> 
> TW FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!!!! there is a decent amount of blood in it so if that at all isn't okay with you, let me know by dm or in the comments and i can give you a blood-less rundown of what happened!
> 
> also,,, this chapter is just about 5k?? it seemed so short because it's less than half the length of chapter 11,,, this is what a Normal chapter is like,,, yikes
> 
> ((also this chapter is dedicated to izacc bc your comment literally made me cry and i adore you))
> 
> a small notice! this was supposed to go up a week ago but then i had a family trip and i wanted to spend my time focusing on having fun with them because i can write/post any time, but i get to see this side of my family maybe once every two years. i just wanted to thank you all for being so patient and understanding and it means the entire world to me!!!  
> <3

**ONE YEAR AGO - Lee Donghyuck**

**An Island In The East Caribbean**

* * *

Donghyuck spat out the bitter liquid, bringing the flask up to his eye and squinting at it. 

“What kind of shit is this?” He asked to no one in particular, appalled that anyone would voluntarily consume that.

“Some kind of alcohol they were holding up here,” Jeno replied from a small distance away, sorting through a pile of trinkets to see if there was anything of value.

“Not worth holding up at all if you ask me,” he muttered to himself before tossing the flask behind him, not caring if it landed anywhere near the mound of discarded items that they didn’t want to keep. 

Donghyuck didn’t even know what the name of the island was, yet here they were, pillaging it for all that it had. It wasn’t inhabited, or at least since the _Helios_ had scared off the pirates that had used this as their home base previously. They had been trying to create some sort of pirating ring, and as much as Donghyuck had known about it—he always knew about everything happening in the Caribbean—he hadn’t spared much care because they hadn’t tried to mess with him yet. The moment they began to run into Donghyuck during his own escapades, though, was where he drew the line, and he took their entire ring down without any warning.

The other pirates had been destroying ships from the royal navy and then illegally transporting and selling their contents, which included the sailors themselves. Unfortunately, that began to garner some unwanted attention from the rest of the royal navy when their ships weren’t coming back as scheduled and their sailors continued to go missing. In an even worse turn of events for the pirating ring, they happened to come across Donghyuck and his crew, and had even attempted to take down the _Helios_ when they knew full and well what her captain was capable of.

Donghyuck had just been passing through their territory—or at least what they had _thought_ was their territory—headed to Singapore when they were confronted by three ships, all bearing the same logo of the new pirating ring that Donghyuck had been seeing around. Even with three of their heavily armed ships against just one that was manned by six boys, Donghyuck had managed to destroy them all.

“Hey, Cap!” Jaemin called, waving him over from a pile of chests just around the curve of the beach. “You might find this of interest!” Donghyuck perked up from his previous job of helping Jeno sort through trinkets and jogged over. His breath caught in his throat when he got a glimpse of the piles of golden coins inside the chest that Jaemin had propped open.

“It looks like they weren’t completely terrible pirates after all,” Jisung mused, peeking over Jaemin’s shoulder to eye the coins with interest. 

“Have either of you taken any?” Donghyuck asked, suddenly panicked as he recognized the symbol emblazoned into each coin. Both Jaemin and Jisung shook their heads and Donghyuck let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t touch them.” He squinted as he moved closer to the chest, motioning for the other two to back away.

With a careful touch, he traced his finger along the pile of coins from the chest, examining it as closely as he could without removing it from the chest. Just as he thought.

“Cortés’ cursed treasure,” he murmured. Jisung sucked in a breath, understanding immediately, but Jaemin still looked lost so Donghyuck elaborated. “It’s said that this was the blood money paid to stem the slaughter that Cortés wreaked upon the Aztecs with his armies. The greed of Cortés was so insatiable that the gods placed a curse upon the gold. Any mortal that removes but a single piece from that stone chest shall be punished for eternity.”

“If that’s the punishment for taking the gold then why would anyone do it?” Jaemin threw his hands up in the air. “People are _idiots_.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t about to take it yourself just a moment ago.” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, and Jaemin’s shoulders hunched down sheepishly. “But it doesn’t matter. The last thing I want is anyone on my ship being cursed by this because I have no idea how to undo it.”

“I do,” Renjun interjected from across the beach. How he heard what Donghyuck had been saying remained a mystery. “All of the pieces have to be returned and the blood has to be repaid.”

“Whose blood?” Jeno asked, standing next to Renjun.

“A descendent of Cortés himself who carries his blood in their veins.” He stood up, placing a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Otherwise the taker of the gold is set to live on forever, cursed.”

“Immortality doesn’t sound so bad.” Chenle shrugged before crossing his arms.

“True immortality is a ruse,” Renjun threw back. “Eternal life always comes at a cost, and Cortés’ price is no exception.”

Donghyuck tuned out their banter as he ran his fingers along the coins, feeling them shift beneath his fingers. He wasn’t sure what to do with them because he didn’t want to leave them here for anyone else to retrieve even though no one alive except for the _Helios_ crew even knew of their whereabouts at the time, but the last thing he wanted to do is bring the chest aboard his ship and risk cursing the entire crew.

“Hey, uh, Donghyuck?” Chenle called from the shoreline, his voice pitchy—or at least more pitchy than usual—in a way that startled Donghyuck out of his musings. “It looks like we’ve got company.”

Sure enough, when Donghyuck whipped around from the gold, there were white sails on the horizon, and they weren’t just any white sails. Flying high and proud above the ships was the British flag. 

Donghyuck choked.

“Cap?” Jaemin rested a hand on his shoulder, coming up behind him. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yeah.” His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew he had neither time nor good options to spare so he would have to think quickly.

“What are we going to do about it?” Jisung asked, and Donghyuck glanced back to see his young counterpart’s hand already dancing on the hilt of his sword.

There weren’t many ways to proceed that were even remotely logical. Donghyuck decided that they could choose one of two options: one, they could all stand and fight for as long as they could and leave Cortés’ gold, but even then they were outnumbered six to an entire fleet, which meant the odds weren’t in their favor. 

That left the option of Donghyuck of sending his crewmates off in two different groups: one to head back to the _Helios_ and prepare it for sailing from the other side of the island, and the other to go hide Cortés’ treasure on the island somewhere while Donghyuck buys them as much time as he can.

“Jeno, Renjun, go take the chest of gold and bury it somewhere on the island and then forget where it is. The rest of you need to go back to the _Helios_ and get ready to set sail while I distract them for as long as I can so Renjun and Jeno have enough time to hide the chest.”

“What do you mean when you say ‘distract’?” Jisung crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “What is your plan to distract the entire royal navy?”

“If Mark Lee is there, this will work.” The captain looked back at the ships on the horizon, realizing that they have a very limited amount of time. “And the last thing we need is England getting their hands on immortality, no matter how costly it may be.”

“That’s the last thing the world needs,” Jeno muttered, nodding Donghyuck on. “Let’s do it. Renjun and I will get back here as fast as we can to get you out of there and to the ship—”

“Don’t half-ass hiding the chest, Jeno,” Donghyuck warned. “That’s more important. I can hold them off.”

“You aren’t allowed to do anything stupid like dying until we get back then,” Renjun spoke up, but didn’t look up from where he was re-organizing the bottles of herbs and remedies in his bag. 

“Consider it a deal.” Donghyuck grinned, his smile refusing to dim even when he glanced back over his shoulder to see the rapidly advancing fleet of ships. “We don’t have much time though. Get going.”

Chenle looked like he wanted to say something more, but Jisung just dragged him away by the arm after Jaemin before a single word could leave his lips, and Donghyuck appreciated it. As much as Chenle surely had wanted to give him words of comfort, telling him to be careful, that wasn’t what he needed.

Donghyuck watched as Renjun and Jeno took the chest of all eight-hundred-eighty-two pieces of Cortés’ gold and hauled it away into the dense forest before turning back to the sea. The wind had picked up earlier today, ruffling Donghyuck’s hair as the ships continued to approach. He swallowed down the bubbling of anticipation in his throat; he couldn’t afford to be distracted with anything when the time arrived, emotions included.

There was nothing to do with his crew scattered as the fleet approached, so Donghyuck walked across the beach to the treeline, leaning back against one. He let his head fall back until it was resting against the trunk and relaxed in the shade of its palms as he waited. He lost track of time as he stood there against the tree, not keeping a very good eye on how close the ships were getting, but he heard footsteps on the sand, light and nimble.

They were trying to be quiet, and it almost worked, but Donghyuck didn’t even have to open his eyes to unsheathe his sword and clash blades with the incoming glint of steel, seconds before it would have sliced him open.

Donghyuck blinked his eyes open with a grin, knowing immediately that it was Mark standing there, his grip firm on the hilt of his own sword and his eyes narrowed.

“Long time no see, admiral,” he greeted, pushing himself off of the tree to have better leverage with his stance. “How are you doing this fine afternoon?”

“Where is the rest of your crew?” Mark spat, ignoring Donghyuck’s words completely much to the captain’s amusement.

“Oh, I’m doing lovely, thank you for asking. What wonderful weather we are having!” His tone tipped just past mocking, and Mark’s scowl deepened.

“Stop messing around, Haechan.” Mark ground his sword against Donghyuck’s. “You’re the one who has been pillaging our ships for months, and don’t you even try to deny it.”

As he spoke, Donghyuck glanced around them, surprised to find them alone. Mark was the only one who had advanced on him, leaving the rest of his men that had followed him ashore back by the rowboats. All eyes were trained on them, though, and Donghyuck wasn’t sure how he felt about that quite yet. It could be good because they weren’t searching for his crew yet, but bad because if he made one wrong move, he’d end up with either a bullet or a sword in his chest in a matter of seconds—possibly both.

“I’m afraid I do have to deny it, admiral, because it’s simply not true.” Donghyuck flashed an easy grin.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because their little pirating ring was messing with my own business, so I took them down.” He spread his free arm, indicating to the piles of trinkets still on the beach. “We were just reaping the rewards of our plunder.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you took down an entire pirating ring with just four other crew members?”

“It’s five now,” he corrected, almost on instinct. He forgot that Renjun had always been back on the ship, or at least otherwise occupied, during their latest run-ins with Mark, meaning that Mark didn’t yet know who he was. “And I _am_ Captain Haechan.” He added, as if it would provide an adequate explanation, which it didn’t, but Donghyuck can’t help but be one for the dramatics occasionally.

“All you speak is lies, pirate,” Mark hisses, and Donghyuck has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. Not out of respect, but because he doesn’t want to take his gaze off of Mark for even a fraction of a second.

“Look, you can’t seriously believe that I was behind this? You have such a low opinion of me,” he pouted, biting back the smile that threatened to take over when a look of abject disgust passed across Mark’s delicate features. “If I was to set a pirating ring up, it would have been much better crafted than this scrap of dog shit, and it wouldn’t have targeted your naval ships because that always means I have to deal with you, which isn’t something I’m overly fond of.”

When Mark growled and gave the first strike, Donghyuck grinned widely. Provoking Mark was a skill he had honed over the five years that he had known him, and his ability to rile the admiral up was nearly impeccable but he couldn’t help but notice that there was something a little off today. 

Mark wasn’t fighting to tease or to draw Donghyuck out of his comfort zone like usual. No, today he was fighting with vigor in his eyes unlike anything Donghyuck had seen since the day they met and Mark had been so adorably determined to win that drinking game. He wanted something that day, something more than the satisfaction of having staved off Donghyuck for another day, and that scared him more than he cared to admit.

The way he moved with such grace as he stayed on his toes, constantly parrying and jabbing right back at Donghyuck, mirroring each move he made with more power. Donghyuck snapped his head to the side, just missing a swipe that Mark made at his cheek, and he didn’t know how he had even let Mark that close in the first place.

On most days, they were equals. On the better days, Donghyuck could beat Mark in their fights, and it was something that had kept this cat-and-mouse chase going on for so long. If Mark had been this good the entire time that was going on, things didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense that he would have been hiding his swordsmanship if he could have just beaten Donghyuck in the first fight they ever had. 

The way they fought was nothing less than calculated and vicious, both of them out for blood. Every movement that either of them made was immediately sized up and retaliated to, their swords grinding and clashing in the humid air between them. Donghyuck noted that they weren’t making progress in any specific direction, more that they had been circling each other for minutes now and with little to show for it other than the sweat on their faces and the burning of their muscles.

Donghyuck didn’t know what they looked like from an outside perspective, but he thought of whatever was happening as more of a dance than a duel. The way their feet moved in accordance with the other’s to keep the best stance, never quite letting each other relax yet both of them somehow comfortable with the constantly changing rhythm of the fight. The way their swords collided told the story that they were enemies, but the way their bodies knew each other said that they were soulmates, and Donghyuck didn’t know which to believe.

“So many of my men have died because of this!” Mark accused as he lunged forward once more, making Donghyuck nearly dive to the side to avoid being impaled. “Because of you!”

“I wasn’t part of this!” Donghyuck huffed out, dodging another one of Mark’s ceaseless advances. “I know you don’t trust my word, but I’m giving it to you, Mark, neither me nor any person in my crew had anything to do with the pillaging of your ships!”

Their blades clashed once more, and Donghyuck didn’t know if it was his plea or just Mark getting tired, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second too long, leaving a bit too much space between them. That gave Donghyuck time to do something completely illegal in a fair swordfight and equally unprecedented in any fight. This wasn’t a fair fight though, and Donghyuck wasn’t about to start treating it like one out of chivalry, so he bent down to scoop up some sand and throw it at Mark.

He spluttered, blinking the sand out of his eyes to try and see what was going on, but it was too late. Donghyuck flicked Mark’s sword out of his hand with his own, watching it fall onto the beach with no finesse as he brought his blade back up to point at Mark’s throat, not quite scraping the skin. Mark froze, his muscles were still coiled with tension, wound up and ready to strike even though he didn’t have a weapon in his hands.

“You cheated,” Mark panted out, not quite daring to reach up and wipe the sweat from his brow. Instead, Donghyuck saw his fingers twitch towards the holster that held his pistol at his hip.

“Pirate,” Donghyuck reminded him with a smile that disappeared as quickly as it came, never once letting his sword waver.

It was fascinating to watch Mark think; it was almost as if he could see all of the gears turning in Mark’s head, weighing his options as he decided what was the best way to proceed. Donghyuck felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as Mark pursed his lips and relaxed his stance at last, backing up from Donghyuck’s blade with defeat in his eyes.

Donghyuck let out a sigh and sheathed his own sword, watching as Mark clenched his hands into fists at his sides, struggling to not reach for his pistol.

“I will let you go just this once since I’m inclined to believe you, I lost in our fight even though it wasn’t fair, and this land is not part of England’s territory yet, but do not meddle in our affairs again or I will have your head for the King.” The way Mark spoke was almost painfully formal, but the propriety was cut into by the way his chest was heaving, the way sweat was beading on his smooth skin, making it glisten in the sunlight.

Absently, Donghyuck wondered whether or not Mark knew just how beautiful he was. 

“You couldn’t have my head even if you tried.” And with those final words, Donghyuck made the fatal mistake of turning his back on Mark to walk away.

There was the sound of metal scraping on sand and Donghyuck didn’t even have time to react before he felt the blade of a sword slice into his back. He tried to arch away enough that it wouldn’t dig deep, but it was too late. By the time Donghyuck turned around to say something—or draw his sword, or react _at all_ —his head was getting fuzzy, finally registering the pain as his legs gave out from underneath his body.

He crumpled to the ground face-up, feeling sand dig into the cut. He blinked heavily, watching Mark turn his sword in his hands, the blade glistening with scarlet in the blinding sunlight. It was beautiful in a sort of horrific way, watching someone who he held in such high standards turn around and cheat just to win. Ironic. He leaned over Donghyuck, his expression unreadable.

“You will not talk away from me unscathed once again, Haechan. I will do whatever it takes to keep my country, my people, and my King safe, and if that means sacrificing your blood, then so be it.” Mark’s voice is soft, much softer than it should be for what he had just done. “I will not apologize for this because it will serve as a reminder that when you interfere with the King and his property, you mess with me by extension, and I hope that it not a mistake you decide to make twice because I will not be as forgiving again.”

“You cheated,” Donghyuck hissed out as the sand dug into his cut, completely ignoring Mark’s spiel. “Why?”

“Because I intend to be your equal.” Mark knelt down next to Donghyuck, putting himself between the captain and Mark’s own crew. “And I will treat you as you treat me until someone wins this unwinnable duel between the two of us.”

“You could win it right now,” Donghyuck coughed out. “Just kill me. End this. Win the unwinnable duel.”

“I may cheat, captain, but I do not fight unarmed men.” Mark reached forward tentatively, brushing away the damp hair that was matted to his forehead with sweat. “The confrontation today could not end without blood, but I intended to tell you something that has been plaguing my mind for quite some time.”

“You had to stab me in order to tell me this?” Donghyuck wasn’t sure if he was even hearing Mark correctly at this point because his ears were ringing and his vision was swimming, pain consuming every inch of his body and he could tell that unconsciousness wasn’t far behind.

“Haechan, you have to understand that—” Mark barely got the chance to start before his head shot up, his eyes wide and expression startled.

“Get away from him!” Jeno’s disembodied voice called from somewhere in the distance.

Donghyuck’s mind was somewhere else completely, eyes glazed over as he tried to focus on something other than the pain and Mark’s gentle voice washing over him and the sudden absence of his cool hands carding softly through his hair. He was vaguely thankful that it was a hot day and he wasn’t wearing the jacket that Yixing had gotten him so it didn’t get sliced through. It was one of the last memories he had of _The Eve_ and it might have crushed him to have it ruined.

“I’d watch your back a little more closely from now on,” Mark said before standing up and disappearing from Donghyuck’s rapidly blurring field of vision. 

There was some yelling in the background, someone calling his name, but Donghyuck was so far gone that he couldn’t even tell if it was Jeno or not. It felt as if he was hearing everything through an ocean, but all he could do was stare straight up into the blue sky, unblinking, and wonder why in hell he couldn’t even feel the pain in his back anymore and why his heart felt like it was trying to combust within his own chest.

Renjun’s shrill voice swam into his consciousness, saying something about shock, and it took him concerningly long to discern that the voice wasn’t just in his own head. Renjun was really there, leaning over him, and then he was being lifted up. Someone—Jeno, probably—held Donghyuck close to their chest as they took off toward the other side of the island through the forest.

Donghyuck craned his neck behind them in an attempt to get one last glance at Mark. He was standing there, the sun at his back and the tip of his sword still glinting red with the remnants of Donghyuck’s own blood. If he squinted, he could make out the pool of red that he had been lying in earlier, and the dripping trail that he was leaving behind as Jeno hurried away as fast as he could with Donghyuck in his arms. 

There was an odd expression on his face, though, and if Donghyuck himself didn’t know any better, he might have thought it was guilt. The moment he blinked, though, Mark had already turned around, his sword sheathed and his hair blowing in the breeze, leaving Donghyuck to wonder if he had just made it all up or not as they rounded the bend and Mark’s figure disappeared from sight.

His eyes almost slipped closed a few times, but Renjun was there, poking or pinching him, demanding that he stay awake until they reach _The Helios_. The pain was starting to settle back in and he wasn’t sure if he indeed stayed completely conscious all the way back or not, because he blinked and the next thing he knew he was being set down on the deck.

Faintly, Donghyuck could make out Jeno calling instructions. He thought he caught something about setting sail to Singapore and lowering the fore sail but he honestly couldn’t be quite sure because there was a roaring in his ears that dulled all other noises to a mere hum. The breeze that ruffled Donghyuck’s hair was cool in a way that was almost enough to fool him that Mark was there once more, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Just the thought of that made him curl into himself in pain, letting out a groan that sounded strained even to his own ears. In mere seconds, there were careful hands on his body, encouraging him to roll over onto his stomach and lift his head. Fingers stroked his chin, coaxing his mouth open enough for a liquid to be poured in.

It wasn’t vile and disgusting like he had expected since it was clearly one of Renjun’s concoctions. Instead, it had a pleasant earthy flavor, something along the lines of an herbal tea, but with a tinge of sweetness lingering on his tongue as he swallowed and laid his head back down.

All of his limbs felt so heavy, his eyelids long having since given up on attempting to stay open like he wanted. He soon couldn’t feel much of anything except for the solid wood beneath him and the burning pain on his back, so he let his thoughts slip back to Mark and what exactly had happened on the island just then. Donghyuck always liked being a step ahead of everyone else in the room, and the fact that he failed, even just this once, was a startling revelation.

It didn’t make sense as to why Mark didn’t just kill Donghyuck right then and there. Sure, he had mentioned something about not fighting and unarmed man, but Donghyuck’s sword was still in his sheath at his side so he had been armed. There had been nothing stopping him from slitting his throat at that very moment, and yet, he chose not to.

Mark had spoken in a low and smooth voice and carded his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair soothingly instead of treating him like any other mortal enemy would and just killing him where he was lying helpless on the sand as he bled from the very wound that Mark had given him. 

It just wasn’t adding up, but Donghyuck blinked heavily and felt his body being lifted once more. He barely registered Jisung’s terrified face before he stopped fighting and let darkness consume his vision.

The next time Donghyuck regained consciousness, his back was throbbing in pain and pure, unadulterated hatred for admiral Mark Lee coursed through his veins. He was lying on his stomach on the bed in his cabin, his arms pillowed under his head.

“I’m going to kill him next time I see him,” he muttered, not expecting the response that came right after.

“You don’t mean that.” Renjun was sitting at the foot of Donghyuck’s bed, sorting through all of the bottles inside his bag. The way he said it wasn’t a threat; it was a simple statement that Donghyuck knew to be true.

“What makes you think I won’t slice his head right off the next time I set my sights on that son of a bitch?” Donghyuck challenged, easing himself up onto his forearms so he could turn his head to get a better look at Renjun.

“Because if you hated him that much, he would be dead already,” he explained as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “I know you well enough to know that you never show any sort of mercy in a situation like that…”

“And?” Donghyuck prompted, wanting to understand what he was trying to get at.

“There’s still something holding you back,” Renjun concluded with a sealing the cork back into its bottle. 

“I will neither confirm nor deny the accusation posed against me.” Donghyuck let his arms slide out from under him and his head hit the mattress with a dull thud. He caught sight of the bandages that were completely wrapped around his chest and torso when he looked back at Renjun and swallowed down the pained gasp rising up in his throat. He wanted to ask how bad it was, but he decided that he just didn’t want to know, or at least not yet.

“You could have just said I was wrong.” Donghyuck could hear the grin in Renjun’s voice, the mirth glinting in his eyes.

“Why are you so annoying?”

“Why are you so closed off?”

“Touché.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Let me know when you’re ready to admit the truth to yourself.” Renjun stood up, his footsteps padding across the room to the doors. Donghyuck peered back over his shoulder to see Renjun looking right back at him with an expression of such pity and disappointment that made Donghyuck’s blood boil. “I’ll be waiting.”

In all honesty, he had every right to be upset with Donghyuck, but just because his anger was valid didn't make Donghyuck any less petty when it came to him. He wrinkled his nose in the beginnings of a sneer before his back twinged with pain and his expression twisted into one of pain. Renjun scoffed in disdain, and Donghyuck's eyelid twitched in annoyance, a scathing reply forming in his head but it didn't matter.

Renjun walked the rest of the way out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Donghyuck alone with the bandages, the pain, and a whole lot of conflicted thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fondly refer to this chapter as the "every time lil drops a pirates of the caribbean reference, take a shot and you'll be dead on the floor by the fifth page" chapter and for those of you who have seen the movies, you know exactly why :D  
> i have no idea if this is what you guys were expecting or not (both timeline-wise and what-actually-happened-with-hyuck's scar-wise) so? let me know?  
> also this chapter is one big misleading hint followed by a bunch of smaller hints (only some of which are misleading) so before you start jumping to conclusions,,, take a step back ;)  
> anYWAY! we're back to our regularly scheduled present day angst in chapter 13! get ready for some sad boys at sea!


	13. Only One Man Would Dare Give Me Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY IT'S VAL'S BIRTHDAY TODAY EVERYONE!!!!! val is my beta (and my older sister) and she no matter how much she gripes about my dialogue tags, she is responsible for making this fic look as amazing as it does and i love her with my whole heart!!!!
> 
> (side note: if anyone gets the chapter title reference i'm going to give you a BIG ~~spoiler~~ HUG

**PRESENT DAY - Lee Donghyuck**

**Somewhere At Sea Between Port Royal and Pirate’s Cove**

* * *

 

Donghyuck is alone, unable to sort out his emotions, and incapable of sleeping for the third night in a row. He-who-shall-not-be-named has been the one to curl up next to him and whisk the nightmares away for the past weeks, but Donghyuck doesn’t have that luxury anymore. Instead of dwelling on the thoughts of it and his losses, he powers on into the next day without sleep once again, hoping it doesn’t show.

Earlier, he found one of the yellow blooms from Hendery’s garden crushed under the sole of his boot and at first he had placed it on his desk with no real thought to it, but it slowly became a reminder for him every time he passed by the small flower. No matter how beautiful something is, everything is so fragile and can be crushed in a matter of seconds if the right force is applied. 

Donghyuck runs his fingers along the half-faded hickeys on his neck absently, so lost in thought that he presses his thumb down onto one of them so hard that he hisses with pain and jerks his hand away. Another reminder. This time it’s about how those marks had once been a promise for more, but now they just lay there as a cruel decoration, a constant reminder that he’s incomplete. 

“Hyuck?” Jisung asks, frowning as Donghyuck sheepishly withdraws his hand from the bruises on his neck. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be,” he grumbles back, turning his eyes back to the sea. He is lucky he knows the way to Pirate’s Cove from this side of the Caribbean so well because he isn’t sure that his compass, weighing heavily in his pocket, would be of any help.

“Donghyuck,” Jisung scolds. “You can’t just pretend all of that didn’t happen!”

“Watch me.” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, challenging him. Before Jisung can respond, though, there is a cry from out on the main deck that has them both whipping around.

“We’re coming up on a wreck, Hyuck!” Chenle calls out from the bow of the _Helios_ where he is leaning over the railing, staring down at the water with rapt attention. “Steer carefully so nothing gets caught beneath the hull!”

Donghyuck is mildly surprised when the first shards of a ship’s stern pass by in the water where he can see from his vantage point at the wheel. Wrecks aren’t uncommon, per se, but it’s very rare that a ship would ever be destroyed by another in these parts given how unpopulated they are. That leaves just one option as to what could have happened here: there must have been a storm that rolled across the area crosswise, just missing the _Helios_. 

It’s near silent on the deck, partially mourning for the lost sailors and partially because the ship is absolutely obliterated and there is no chance of them finding anything of value in the wreckage. Donghyuck scours the pieces floating at the surface for any distinguishing features on the pieces, but only purses his lips when he spots a British flag lying just beneath the surface, trapped under some driftwood. He barely has the chance to wonder what a British ship is doing out in these parts where even _they_ know that they hold no jurisdiction before his attention is snapped back away to the bow when there’s a strangled shout.

“Donghyuck!” Jisung calls out. Donghyuck had no idea when he had left the helm to go down and join Chenle at the front. “There are survivors!”

“How many?” He yells back.

“Five by the looks of it… wait! _Hyuck_ _!”_ Jisung’s voice rises in pitch, unsteady and squeaking. “That’s _The Empress_ crew!”

“ _What_ _?”_ Donghyuck chokes.

“They’re in the water! Swing around starboard so we can pick them up!”

“No,” he replies without missing a beat. “No way in hell.”

“We can’t just leave them there, Hyuck, c’mon,” Jaemin speaks up, leaning over the railing once more to gesture at the place where Donghyuck assumes they are. 

“Actually, we can,” he points out, earning a glare from every member of his crew.

“This is like Renjun all over again,” Chenle mutters. Even though he’s standing on the other side of the main deck, Donghyuck doesn’t miss the comment and it makes his blood boil.

“Don’t you _dare_ bring Renjun into this. You know damn well that his situation was completely different and that—”

“Hold on Jisung, back up,” Jeno steps in, cutting Donghyuck off. He’s holding a finger up in the air, a sign for everyone to wait while he figures something out. “How many did you say were in the water?”

“Uh,” he utters eloquently as he leans back over the railing next to Chenle to recount before tilting his head back to the group. “Five.”

The realization hits them all at the same time.

“There are six members of that crew, Donghyuck,” Jeno says, voicing what everyone is thinking as he turns to his captain. “That means one is most likely dead.”

Donghyuck feels his heart clench violently and involuntarily at the thought of a certain prince being dead, but he tells his heart to quit it and doesn’t let his emotions show on the outside.

“Who isn’t in the water?” He punctuates every word clearly, maintaining his stony exterior.

“I, uh…” Jisung rubs the back of his neck, tapping one of his feet vigorously on the deck, purposely avoiding making eye contact with Donghyuck as he keeps his sights trained on the water. Unfortunately for Jisung, Donghyuck knows him too well for his own good and can immediately tell when he is hiding something.

Jisung knows who isn’t there but he doesn’t want to say, which leads Donghyuck to one conclusion but he needs to hear it from Jisung’s lips.

_“Who isn’t there, Jisung?”_

“Mark!” He spits it out after a moment of hesitation, the name coming so fast that Donghyuck very nearly doesn’t catch it. “I can’t see Mark anywhere,” he finishes, voice softened.

There is quiet for a moment, the crew collectively understanding what this most likely means.

“So how do we proceed, captain?” Jaemin is the one to break the silence.

“Go get ropes and get ready to pick them up,” Donghyuck says slowly, taking a shaky breath after a moment of deliberation. “I’ll swing her around starboard.”

Turning the wheel, he swallows down the rush of emotions threatening to bubble up in his throat. He doesn’t have time for that right now because Jaemin and Jeno are climbing down the side of the ship to toss out ropes for the crew members, hauling them up one by one as Donghyuck continues to circle around the remainder of the wreckage as tightly as he can.

“That’s everyone,” Jeno pants, hoisting himself back up. “I’m the last one.”

Donghyuck nods and continues the rest of the rotation before straightening out their course, once again not bothering with the compass.

“Where is Mark?” Donghyuck faintly hears Yukhei ask from the main deck. “We thought he was already here.”

“No,” Jeno tells him, his voice low and solemn. “We haven’t seen him.”

Silence encompasses the deck, and surprisingly enough, Chenle is the first one to let out a sob, not one of Mark’s own crewmates.

“He’s gone?” Chenle sniffles, his voice so delicate that it takes the already broken parts of Donghyuck’s heart and breaks them again into a million more miniscule pieces scattered into the sea. Chenle isn’t one to be so vulnerable, and it tears them all apart as a crew; Donghyuck can see it in everyone’s eyes. Jisung pulls him into a hug, stroking his hair as he stays silent about the crocodile tears wetting the front of his shirt.

“No.” Yukhei shakes his head, standing up from his seated position on the deck. “There’s no way that stubborn son of a bitch is just _gone_. I refuse to believe it.” There’s enough confidence in his voice that it shakes Donghyuck to the core. 

Yukhei rushes to the side of the ship and begins to scan over the rest of the spread out wreckage as they pass by, Jaehyun and Yuta quickly following suit. Donghyuck simply does his best to tune them out, not wanting to think about any of this and just wishing all of his emotions away to the deepest pits of hell where they belong.

“Mark!” Jaehyun yells out all of a sudden, scrambling to the side of the ship. “There! It’s Mark!”

Yukhei runs across the deck to the railing beside his crewmate with a cheer.

“Mark! We’re coming!”

Chenle shouts something similar and chaos overtakes the main deck, everyone calling out to the prince that Donghyuck can’t even see. Soon enough, when the ship doesn’t make a move to circle around and get closer, Jisung is the first to storm up to the helm as the excited yells turn to ones of confusion.

“We are picking him up,” Jisung demands, his arms crossed.

“We will do no such thing.” Donghyuck holds firm.

“Fine.” he scowls back. “Come pick me up, then.”

“What? Sungie—” Donghyuck can’t even get the words out before Jisung is yanking off his boots and coat on his way down the stairs and dives off the side of the ship before he even reaches the main deck. “ _Damnit, Jisung!”_

“Jisung?” Chenle shrieks, shouldering off his jacket and making a move toward the side of the ship again.

“Chenle, don’t,” Donghyuck bellows before the boy can even lift a leg up over the railing. “Jeno, take the wheel and bring her around once again.”

Donghyuck lets go of the wheel before Jeno can even give a reply, and for the second time in mere days, he finds himself taking off his boots and coat and diving into freezing cold water to save Mark. The difference this time is that he is doing it for Jisung.

As he surfaces, Donghyuck clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He takes broad strokes toward where Jisung is struggling to haul Mark up onto a piece of driftwood. He isn’t sure if Mark is even _alive_ for a moment before the prince shudders out a pitiful cough and his fingers twitch to grasp the edge of the wood.

Donghyuck loathes the way his chest soars.

“Jisung what the hell is wrong with you?” He gasps out, hefting the boy up and onto his own piece of wood so he doesn’t have to tread water like Donghyuck is at the moment, tiring himself out with every kick in the frigid water.

“No, Donghyuck, what the hell is wrong with _you_ _?”_ Jisung wheezes back from overexertion. He has never been the best swimmer. “You were going to leave Mark here to _die_ , and as much as I understand why you’re pissed off, that doesn’t validate leaving him to die out here.”

Donghyuck sucks in a breath, tilting his head back so he doesn’t inhale seawater with the air that he so desperately needs. 

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly well, and I wasn’t about to let you sail away and leave him to die because if you had, I would have lost all respect for you as both a captain and as a person.”

“Fine,” Donghyuck heaves out, almost choking on saltwater with his words. “You win. He can come aboard.”

“Good because I wasn’t getting back on that ship without him.”

There’s a splash in the water just to their left and Donghyuck spots the rope. He swims over and grabs it, taking it back to Jisung and pressing it into his quivering palms while trying not to think too hard about how blue Jisung’s fingertips are and it’s barely been a minute. The younger tries to push the rope away to give to Mark, but only succeeds in knocking the prince off of his precarious perch, and Donghyuck loops an arm around Mark’s waist before he can sink and shoves him back up onto the wood.

“Jisung! Just take the rope!”

“No, not until—” Jisung tries again to pass it to Mark who is still fluttering in and out of consciousness next to them, but Donghyuck wraps Jisung’s fingers around the rope in his hands as tightly as he can.

“I’ll be the last up. Now take the damn rope and go, Jisungie.”

There is a pause of hesitation and for a moment he thinks that Jisung might try and pull Mark up with him, but then he nods, grips the rope with all of the strength he has left, and lets Jaemin and Yukhei pull him up. 

“H’chan? ‘S cold…” Mark’s words tremble their way out of his blue lips as he struggles to open his eyes for longer increments. 

“Don’t you dare die on me here, otherwise this will have been all for nothing.”

Donghyuck knows his words are empty, but he also knows that Mark’s brain is too frozen over to pick up on that so when the prince reaches out to weakly grasp at Donghyuck’s wrist, he lets him do it.

“Take the rope, Haechan!” Yukhei calls, and then there’s a rope flying in, splashing between him and Mark with enough force to make Mark’s grip drop away. Donghyuck looks up at the _Helios_ to see Chenle wrapping a shivering Jisung in a towel and bites back a smile when he knows that he is safe.

He debates leaving Mark there for a split second, but knows that Jisung would just do it all over again and none of this would have been worth it at all. So, Donghyuck tugs Mark close to him with an arm looped around his waist and grips the rope with all of the strength left in him with his other hand, allowing them to be pulled in by Yukhei and Jaemin.

When they get within an arm’s length of the ship, Yukhei tries to make a grab for Donghyuck, but he ducks out of the way, making sure Mark gets up first to hold true to his earlier words to Jisung when they were in the water. Yukhei gives him an odd look, but soon becomes too preoccupied with trying to lift Mark all the way back up to the main deck to question it aloud.

Using whatever strength he had left, Donghyuck reaches out and grabs onto the ladder on the side of the ship, getting back up without any help. He nearly collapses once he gets on deck but Taeil, of all people, is there to catch him.

“You cut yourself,” he points out gently after putting a towel around Donghyuck’s shoulders and sure enough, he looks down and there is a shallow scrape all the way up his forearm. He must have cut himself on the side of the plank that Mark was on, but his nerves had been too frozen to register the pain.

Kun comes forward, taking Donghyuck’s arm to clean it and wrap it in bandages before he can even think about protesting. While he is being tended to, Donghyuck looks over at the rest of _The Empress_ crew to see them settling Mark down in a sunny spot on the deck and proceeding to cover him in a bunch of blankets in hopes to warm him up.

Mark is laying just feet away from the stain on the deck from Donghyuck’s blood where it had gushed out of a wound that Mark himself had caused. He wants to laugh at the thought, but can’t muster up the energy to truly find humor in that right now. 

Once his body stops shaking, he slips out of Taeil and Kun’s capable hands to pull his boots and coat back on. When he tries to take back over at the helm, though, Jeno refuses to let him do it.

“Jeno, I’m your captain—”

“I recognize that, but as your second in command, I deem you unfit to lead at the moment.” Jeno pauses and sighs, his brow furrowing. “Just… go sit down or something. You’re exhausted.”

Donghyuck curls his lip in distaste, knowing full well that if he tries hard enough, he can easily win the argument. He doesn’t though. He simply walks halfway back down the stairs and sits there, letting his head rest against the railing. It’s an inconspicuous place to keep an eye on everything going on without climbing all the way up to the crow’s nest—he isn’t sure that he would even survive the trip up the rigging with how much his muscles are protesting to tasks like walking.

He drifts off into a shallow slumber a few times while he sits there, staring off at the horizon, but nothing ever enough to be considered more than a long blink, and nothing near satisfying enough to quench his exhaustion. 

Time passes easily, and he doesn’t know how long it is before Mark finally stirs in his little lump of blankets, wiggling his way back to more permanent consciousness. Donghyuck has to swallow down the thought that Mark looks so small—almost childlike—underneath all of those blankets before he is reminded how young both of them are, so he bites his lip and averts his gaze but continues to watch out of his peripheral vision.

Yukhei swoops forward, the first to notice Mark’s stirrings, and wraps him in a hug that the smaller carefully reciprocates. Soon enough, his whole crew is surrounding him, speaking in hushed tones. At first, Donghyuck thinks that it’s because they don’t want the _Helios_ crew to hear what they’re saying, but then he spots Jisung and Chenle sitting cross-legged besides Mark as well, and he realizes that Mark probably has a wicked headache, not unlike his own.

“Haechan?” Mark’s voice carries across the deck uncertainly and Donghyuck snaps his gaze back to him. “Thank you.”

The words are quiet but meaningful, yet Donghyuck finds it within himself to scoff anyway.

“Why are you thanking me?” He points at Jisung. “You _should_ be thanking him.”

Mark frowns, his words forming more slowly than he would like.

“Haechan, I—”

“You’re lucky that my crew has grown fond of you. If it was up to me, you would still be drowning in the ocean right now,” he spits, ignoring the pointed look from Jisung who can see right through him. “I’m only transporting you to Pirate’s Cove, and then you’re on your own.”

“Just let me—”

“Be gracious that I’m not slitting your throat where you sit, admiral,” he says, turning his head back to the horizon so he doesn’t have to look at Mark. “I advise you take what you can get and be pleased that your head is still attached to your shoulders.”

Mark seems to understand that the discussion is closed for now, so he simply nods. He struggles to stand on his own, his limbs clearly not quite cooperating yet, so Yukhei helps him up and they head into the captain’s quarters, presumably for Mark to change into the clothes that he left there from last time. Donghyuck hates the helpless look in Mark’s eye—there’s no fight left in him and Donghyuck wonders if he looks the same—but he simply turns away and goes back to the helm.

One look from Donghyuck tells Jeno to let him take the wheel before he blows up, so he backs off and lets the captain resume his duties. Mark walks back out some time later, though Donghyuck tries not to pay him a lot of attention, and quietly climbs up to the crow’s nest. Yukhei exits immediately after, watches Mark go up, then heads down below deck without so much as a glance given in Donghyuck’s direction.

Mark doesn’t come down for some time, so Donghyuck can only assume that he has fallen asleep up there. He himself has done it before, and knows how easily the warm sun and the faint sound of the waves can lull anyone into a gentle slumber. Mark only comes back down when the sky begins to darken with vibrant pinks and purples from the setting sun, and Donghyuck ducks into his cabin just before Mark sees him, having just handed off the wheel to Yukhei.

He must have trudged up to the helm because his conversation with Yukhei above his cabin leaks through the floor and Donghyuck can hear most of what they are saying if he tries hard enough.

“...Not Jeno?” Mark is asking when Donghyuck begins to listen. He curls a little farther into himself when he hears his voice.

“I asked if Haechan wanted me to take over since he looked tired and he just kind of nodded at me and disappeared into his cabin before you came down,” Yukhei replies all in one breath. There’s a moment of quiet followed by a series of hurried footsteps moving across the helm before they stop abruptly and Yukhei speaks again. “I don’t think this is the right time, Mark.”

“But you were the one who told me to—”

“I know what I told you to do, but I saw his face both that night and today. He may be tough but he’s not great at hiding his feelings. Just give him some time and space.

After that, their conversation grows inane and uninteresting, so Donghyuck tunes them out again. Mark wants to talk to him, and to be perfectly honest, that’s the last thing he wants. There’s no way it can go well. With Donghyuck’s defensiveness and Mark’s tendency to blow up, nothing but toxicity flows between them. Maybe it was for the best that Mark broke his heart that night so he wouldn’t have to deal with an even bigger trauma later.

It takes a while, but Donghyuck eventually falls into a fitful slumber filled with nightmares of fire and screams and cold, cold water with Mark never quite leaving his mind.

In the following days, Donghyuck makes a conscious effort to shut down every opportunity Mark has to talk to him. He never goes further into acknowledging Mark’s existence aboard the _Helios_ other than tonight when he climbs up into the crow’s nest, entrusting the wheel in the capable hands of Jeno.

He is only up there for a moment before he can hear someone on the rigging, climbing their way up to him. Donghyuck isn’t in the mood to speak to anyone that would actually come up here to bother him, which brings him to the conclusion that it’s Mark coming up to him so he scoots around the mainmast to the other side of the nest in a vain attempt to hide himself in the small space.

“Haechan?” Mark’s voice should never be this soft, this _timid_ , but it is. Mark is always the guy who steps first, who is sure of himself and every move he makes, and the words “Mark Lee” and “cautious” should just cancel themselves out. 

Donghyuck doesn’t respond. Mark doesn’t speak again.

He hears Mark shift around until there’s a small thud on the floor of the nest, meaning that Mark had sat himself down on the other side of it. Donghyuck can just imagine Mark’s chin on his knees, his arms wrapped around his ankles as he softly smiles to himself in the moonlight, knowing that Donghyuck is on the other side—

No.

That’s not what this is about at all.

Mark has probably come to do something stupid like apologize, which will just make Donghyuck resent him further, yet Mark never speaks. They sit there together, backs facing each other on opposite sides of the mast  and listen to each other’s soft breathing.

Donghyuck takes out his father’s journal from the pocket inside of his jacket, thumbing through the pages. He has memorized every coded word, deciphered each indecipherable word, yet he is still missing something—something big enough that fate decided to involve Mark Lee and flip Donghyuck’s emotions a veritable middle finger. 

When Donghyuck dies, he is going to punch whatever god is out there right in the nose for all the shit they pulled with him over his lifetime. He has had more than his share of pain, yet here they are, putting Mark so close to him yet still keeping him just out of reach, and somehow that’s the cruelest thing of all.

When Donghyuck wakes up in the morning, he is curled up on the floor of the crow’s nest, his father’s journal still clutched in his hand and Mark’s jacket balled up under his head.

Donghyuck’s heart breaks a little more.

The whole “ignore the problem long enough and it will go away” philosophy doesn’t seem to work with Mark, however, and it’s slowly getting through to Donghyuck no matter what lengths he goes to in an attempt to stop it.

The night before they are slated to get to Pirate’s Cove, Donghyuck is sitting at his desk in his quarters, writing a letter back to Yeri when there is a soft knock on his door. 

“Come in,” he beckons without thinking, but immediately regrets it when Mark is the one to cautiously push the doors open. Again, caution with Mark just looks so _wrong_ that Donghyuck frowns more in referral to that than it actually being Mark who is entering his room. 

“Burning the midnight oil, captain?” Mark asks, tentatively taking a step into the room.

“What do you want, admiral?” Donghyuck stands, setting his quill back in the inkwell; the seas are calm tonight so he doesn’t need to put the cork back in it right away. He found it vaguely amusing that they were both addressing each other by names that they hadn’t used in so long.

“Ah, straight to the point.” Mark swallows, letting the door fall shut behind them; they’re alone now. Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, prompting him. “I want to talk.”

“You’re talking right now.”

“I just want a chance to explain why I reacted the way I did,” he pleads. Donghyuck’s expression must have given away his apprehension because Mark takes four long strides, crossing the room in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t even have the time to flinch away from him before Mark’s hands are on his shoulders, grounding him there. “Please. Just listen.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know why he gives into Mark after all this time, especially when they’re so close to Pirate’s Cove, but he does.

Well, actually he knows perfectly well why he does that, but he elects to ignore it.

Caving into Mark’s wide, pleading eyes is the easiest thing he has ever done, and it is almost terrifying how quickly Donghyuck finds himself seated back on his bed, patting the spot beside him as an indication for Mark to join him.

“I’m listening,” he prompts when Mark takes a beat too long to begin, and he looks up to see Mark staring straight back at him. Donghyuck swears that he could chart the stars in Mark’s eyes.

“Do you remember the day I gave you that scar?”

“Vividly,” Donghyuck deadpans, narrowing his eyes. Mark winces at the tone, but carries on.

“The pirating ring, which we eventually concluded that you weren’t part of, was something my ship had run into before just a few months prior. They took the life of one of my closest crewmates, Hansol, right in front of me and I swore that I would get revenge.” Mark pauses, clenching his fists. “Haechan, my crewmates mean more to me than you know. They’re my family, my brothers, and to have them ripped away from me and their lives disposed of like they’re meaningless is one of the worst things in the world.”

Mark is staring out into space in front of him, not quite focusing on any particular object as he speaks. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he chooses his words carefully.

“I swore an oath when I became admiral. I swore that I could do everything within my power to protect my country and my men, and when I can’t do that, it tears me apart in ways I can’t even begin to explain.” He stops again and looks down at his hands. Donghyuck follows his gaze down to watch his fingers uncurl and the imprint of his nails embedded in the heel of his palm slowly reveal themselves. “When you let Renjun go like that, I… I didn’t know what to feel because your actions went against every promise I have made in my entire life, and it might not have been justified for me to express myself in the harsh manner that I did, but damn it all if I didn’t have the right to be angry.”

Donghyuck wants to reach out and take Mark’s hands in his and tell him that everything is okay, but he can’t because it isn’t. 

“You’re correct about a few things there. In particular that little segment about it not being justified to, what did you say? _Express yourself in the harsh manner that you did?_ Maybe you did have the right to be angry, but you had absolutely no place to bring my parents into this. Not after the trust I showed you by letting you come aboard my ship when we have been at each other’s throats at every other point in our lives.”

“I know that I blew up in a completely inappropriate manner and I’m sor—”

“Don’t say that. Your actions are in the past and we have to move forward with what has already happened. There’s no sense in apologizing for something that you would do again in a heartbeat.” 

That got Mark quiet down. His posture slips just barely, but Donghyuck doesn’t miss a movement that he makes. He lets his shoulders fall and his chin drop slightly as he closes his eyes, presumably to mull over how he should respond.

“Okay,” Mark says, finally opening his eyes with a deep breath. “Can you at least tell me why you chose Renjun so quickly instead of finding another way out?”

“I can’t,” Donghyuck replies in a rush. “I would if I could, but I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can, Haechan,” Mark urges. 

“No, I really can’t. I made a promise and I don’t intend to break it.” Donghyuck gets the closest to apologizing that he has in years, and he doesn’t think Mark even knows it. “You just have to trust me.”

“Trust isn’t something that you’re just going to get from me, Haechan.” Mark furrows his brows, tensing his shoulders. “You earn it, just like everyone else.”

“Then I will soon enough, but you have to work with me on this,” he bargains. “Trust isn’t a one-sided thing either.”

“The same goes for me, admiral. I don’t know why you’re acting like it doesn’t.” Donghyuck doesn’t meet Mark’s eyes as he stands up. “Now go to bed, and I don’t mean up in the crow’s nest this time.”

Mark opens his mouth, presumably to argue, but instead he clamps his lips shut tight with a frown. Donghyuck finds the little creases in his forehead irritatingly endearing.

“Well I know that you aren’t going to sleep,” he finally says, and Donghyuck meets his eyes hesitantly. “So I’m just going to stay awake until you do.”

“You do realize that you choosing not to sleep has no effect on if or when I go to bed?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, it does.” Mark says it with so much conviction that Donghyuck wants to be annoyed at him. He’s back to his cocky self, though, and that’s the most reassuring thing that he has seen all day. “I’m your motivation to actually sleep for once in your life.”

“Sure, Mark,” Donghyuck chuckles, shaking his head as he turns on his heel and walks to his desk to continue his letter to Yeri. “Whatever you say.”

He flinches as the words leave his mouth, but Mark doesn’t give any sort of reaction to them, so he carries on without glancing back. Donghyuck allows Mark to sit on his bed in silence as he continues to work on his letter back to Yeri, both of them reveling in the quiet that stretches between them.

To be honest, even though it has only been a matter of days, Donghyuck has forgotten how comfortable he feels with Mark, how easy it is for him to relax in his presence because it’s so familiar and warm and irrevocably _good._

That thought scares Donghyuck a little bit. 

He doesn’t pay it any mind, however, because he has work to do. His conscience has been cleared as much as it can be until he gets Renjun back, but then again, that shouldn’t be on his conscience at all given it wasn’t even his decision. Yet it is, and now he and Mark are back to square one. He knows he’s going to have to do something about it eventually, disregarding his earlier threat of leaving Mark and his crew in Pirate’s Cove unattended because as much as he still feels the anger prick at his skin when he thinks of what Mark said about his parents, he had his reasons. 

And here Donghyuck is, once again excusing Mark from actions that hurt him, not unlike his choice to not retaliate after Mark gave him his back injury. 

He hates how easy it is to do, and it’s all because he’s in—

Donghyuck sighs, cutting off his train of thought right there before it starts translating into his letter. Yeri would never let him live it down, and he doesn’t intend to give her that opportunity, even if they only see each other once a decade at this point. 

The silence in the cabin has grown a little too much, and Donghyuck sets his quill to the side, closing the ink well as he turns around. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it aloud, he is still worried about Mark because he knows personally how long-lasting and drastic the effects of spending extended periods of time in freezing ocean water can be.

When he turns around to ask Mark if he is doing alright, he is met with the sight of Mark flopped over on the bed, passed out from exhaustion. He doesn’t even bother biting back the smile that grows on his face or the quiet chuckle that bubbles up in his throat. The prince looks so much younger when he’s sleeping—all of his stress and tension long gone from his features and it reminds Donghyuck once again of just how young Mark is to be commanding the King’s navy all by his lonesome.

Donghyuck tucks his half-finished letter inside his father’s journal and closes it, leaving it there out on his desk as he stands to take his coat off to lay over the back of the chair. He stretches his arms above his head before walking over to the bed and tugging off Mark’s boots. He must have fallen asleep so suddenly that he didn’t remember to take them off.

Mark hums quietly, curling up on himself in a way that makes Donghyuck want to just tuck him away in his pocket and keep him all to himself. Instead, he just pulls the covers up and over his body, burying him under the blankets so he doesn’t get cold.

With a moment of internal debate beforehand, Donghyuck leans down to press a kiss to the tiny crinkle that still resides between Mark’s brows, smoothing it out with the lintering touch of his lips. He murmurs something indecipherable in his sleep, shifting to find the warmth again after Donghyuck retreats.

He still wants to give into Mark so easily, even when he’s asleep, and it’s nothing new.

Donghyuck takes off his own boots and jacket with a heavy sigh, turning to blow out the kerosene lamp swinging overhead before sliding under the covers right next to Mark. He tucks Mark into his chest, letting the short puffs of warm air that escape Mark’s lips curl up against the base of his throat and the steady rising and falling of Mark’s chest against his own calm him into a dreamless slumber for the first night in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UHHH so it's my one year anniversary on ao3 tomorrow so if you get a spam of me posting things, it's because i'm posting a bunch of things in honor of that (and chapter 14 may very well be in it but no guarantee hehe)


	14. Three Kisses With a Side of Extra Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus fuck this chapter is a little over 14.4 THOUSAND WORDS WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING  
> in short, my beta wanted to strangle me for all of the mistakes and i rewrote that stupid fight scene like four times and i still kind of hate it but it's better than attempts 1 through 3 so i've got that going for me. (also if there are mistakes still in here it's bc both val and i gave up trying to fix it sldfkjas)  
> uhhh yeah i'd apologize for the wait for and the length of this chapter but i'm too emotionally drained from writing it  
> good luck making it through  
> TW! lots of blood

**PRESENT DAY - Mark Lee**

**Pirate’s Cove**

* * *

 

Mark wakes up warm, which is odd for several reasons.

Firstly, he doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. The last thing he can recall is looking at Haechan’s figure hunched over his desk as he scribbles on paper with an unnecessarily long quill and now he’s wrapped in warmth with his eyes closed, feeling more refreshed than he has in days.the rou

Secondly, the warmth is coming from a body that has Mark pressed up against them and is breathing slow and deep, clearly not awake yet. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it’s Haechan there next to him, a leg slung carelessly over Mark’s own and his arms wrapped loosely around Mark’s middle.

Thirdly, with the conversation that he and Haechan had the night before, he has been under the impression that there is to be minimal trust between the two of them for the time being. Waking up like this more or less throws that idea out of the window, and now Mark doesn’t have any sort of grasp on where their relationship stands.

To think that he had been so ready to tell Haechan that he was _in love with him_ before the whole Renjun situation went down seems surreal. Mark can’t decipher his own emotions anymore; he doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now, let alone where his feelings about Haechan lie. 

Mark wants to think that he was getting adjusted to not having Haechan aboard his ship before _The Empress II_ got caught in the storm and destroyed, but that would just be lying to himself. 

He spent those painful days being constantly reminded that he wasn’t with Haechan anymore from just the smallest of things—the foreign coldness of the bed in the captain’s quarters because there wasn’t another body keeping the sheets warm, the pang of hollow loneliness at the helm when he goes to make a comment, but there’s no second captain there ready with a smart remark to throw right back.

There had been no more bright blue eyes lighting up the darkness inside of Mark’s head, no more lingering touches that left Mark feeling deliciously tingly from head to toe…

All of a sudden it’s so abundantly clear to Mark that he’s still in love with Haechan. It’s the completely head-over-heels-to-the-point-of-suffocation type of love, the type of love that creeps up slowly but then causes the kind of falling that’s speeding fast and unstoppable, the type of love that has been circling Mark since he was seventeen and has been waiting for the right time to strike for over six years. 

Once again, he recalls the day about a year ago when he last ran into Haechan before this whole mess began, running over the events in his head for the umpteenth time. He knows that he had to draw blood from Haechan that day, simply because his duty called for it, but he knew deep down that he could never be the one to kill Haechan. Mark finds that there’s just too much of himself reflected in those ocean-blue eyes.

Mark swallows hard, drawing himself back to the present so he can enjoy whatever fleeting moments he may have this close to Haechan because he doesn’t know how long they’ll last. He carefully takes his arms that are pinned between their bodies and wraps them around Haechan’s torso, tugging him a little bit closer.

“Subtlety is not your strong suit, admiral,” Haechan says, his voice low enough that Mark can feel the vibrations rattle his insides. 

“I never said it was,” Mark retorts quietly, but keeps his arms where they are, tightening them a little, even.

Haechan chuckles and Mark can feel his head shake from the way his hair shuffles gently beneath his chin. It’s comforting enough to let his half-lidded eyes slip back shut and for him to allow a small puff of air leave his mouth in a rush, his lips almost touching the sun-kissed skin of Haechan’s neck.

Long fingers carefully card through Mark’s hair, slowly coaxing him back to sleep between their meticulous movements and the warmth of Haechan’s chest against his own. He doesn’t know when he drifts off again, or for how long, but when he next opens his eyes, everything is different.

He’s laying on Haechan’s chest, his head tucked neatly in the juncture between Haechan’s neck and shoulder. There’s a hand on his back, gently running fingers up and down his spine and their legs are so intertwined that as Mark slowly gains consciousness, he can’t quite tell where he ends and where Haechan begins.

Mark only registers the fact that his hands are clutching Haechan’s shirt when he feels them ache enough to bring his attention to them, releasing the fabric between his fingers in the process. He hums lightly and blinks his eyes open slowly to find Haechan staring at something above Mark’s head.

“G’morning,” he murmurs before shifting his head enough to prop his chin up on Haechan’s chest.

“More like good afternoon,” Haechan muses without sparing him a glance, his gaze still fixed on something that he’s holding above Mark’s head far enough that it’s just out of sight. “You were tired.”

“Still am.” Mark blinks again, yawning. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much,” he responds easily, finally meeting Mark’s eyes as he pulls down his hand far enough to show that he’s holding his father’s journal, his thumb tucked between the pages to hold his place. “You’re a heavy sleeper, you know.”

“I’m usually not.” Mark nibbles at his lip, but Haechan reaches up with his free hand to press on his lower lip enough that it falls out from between his teeth. He lets his thumb linger there for a moment before hesitantly retracting it and placing his hand on Mark’s back once more. 

“You wouldn’t let go of me, so I managed to get up from here, walk to the desk, grab the journal, walk back, and lay down again all while carrying you _and_ not waking you up.” Haechan grins, sitting up enough to tilt his head so his nose is nearly brushing Mark’s. “Who knew you were so strong?”

Mark pokes absently at a half-healed hickey on Haechan’s neck, making the captain exhale between his teeth harshly. He looks like he is about to retaliate, so Mark sits up, straddling Haechan’s torso; he angles his body so he can focus most of his weight on pinning Haechan’s wrists down. 

“I think you did,” Mark teases when Haechan just breathes out a laugh instead of putting up a fight. 

“Huh,” Haechan hums, a smile curling slowly at the corners of his lips. “Maybe I did.” He shifts his hands until he wiggles them under Mark’s and clasps their fingers together one by one until they’re holding hands against the sheets and Mark is sure that he’s grinning like an idiot.

Mark leans down until his lips are resting gently on Haechan’s jawline, softly grazing them across and down his neck. He feels Haechan’s breath hitch just as much as he hears it, and it makes him smile against the skin, knowing he has the same effect on Haechan that he has on him.

“Oh, _by the King,_ I did not need to see that,” a voice groans from the doorway and Mark sits up straight in a flash. He knows his cheeks flare up because of the way Haechan’s delighted smile grows. 

“Please don’t bring my father into this,” Mark mutters, making Haechan shake with laughter beneath him. “What do you need, Yukhei?” Mark finds it within himself to answer but refuses to turn around and look his best friend in the eyes.

“I, _uh,_ just wanted to, _uh,_ talk to you? Mark? Alone would be great? Yeah...” Yukhei tumbles through the words, his voice just distant enough to let Mark know that he isn’t facing them anymore.

“I’ll send him out in a moment, Yukhei. I presume you’ll be at the helm?” Haechan calls because Mark’s entire body is now too warm to even begin thinking about a response that’s even slightly more eloquent than Yukhei’s.

“Sounds great, take your time!” He squeaks as he rushes out the door, closing it hastily behind him.

It’s only after a moment of silence that Mark finally meets Haechan’s eyes and the captain bursts out laughing. The fit is hard enough that Mark has to ease his weight up onto his knees that are braced on the mattress on either side of Haechan’s body so he has room to laugh.

“You should have seen his _face!”_ He manages to get out between heaving breaths and laughs. “He looked so distraught _it was priceless!”_

“Oh, shut up.” Mark scowls, but he knows the severity of the expression is cut in half by the blush on his face. “I should probably get up and talk—”

Without a second of warning, Mark feels a leg being hooked around his own before his back is being pressed against the warm sheets and Haechan is looming above him, grinning. Mark flexes his fingers to find them still laced with Haechan’s and he can’t help but smile right back.

“Hey,” Mark says quietly, the closest he’s going to get to protesting, making Haechan lean down until their lips are nearly brushing.

“What was this you were saying about getting up?” Haechan teases, squeezing Mark’s fingers between his own—their hands never having parted from each other. “It doesn’t look like you’re going much of anywhere.”

Mark strains his arms to move, but the grip that Haechan has on him is relentless and it hinders him motionless for the most part. He glares up at the captain, ready to tell him off, but before he can even open his mouth, about four things happen at once. 

Haechan leans in, Mark lets his eyes flutter shut, the door to the cabin bursts open again, and various shouts of disgust and surprise from their crew flood the room.

“What are they _doing?”_ Most likely Chenle by the screeching tone.

“Jisung don’t look!” Mark is relatively sure that one is Jaemin.

“Ooh, captain is getting it!” No, that one is Jaemin. The last one must have been Jeno.

“Disgusting.” Definitely Jisung.

“I _told_ you that they were fine!” Yukhei is shouting. “But did you listen? _No!”_  

“Well when you tried to tell us that they were in a compromising position, it led me to believe that they were trying to kill each other because the last time I checked, neither of them would look the other in the eye,” Chenle whines from somewhere near the floor, probably under a pile of people.

“Given Mark’s current position, I don’t think that he could even—” 

Mark can’t see it happen because Haechan’s body is in the way, but by the dull thud and pained groan that thankfully cuts off Yukhei’s comment, someone most likely threw Haechan’s atlas at him and hit their target.

“That’s enough,” Kun speaks and Mark lets himself exhale in relief because there’s at least one voice of reason in the room. Haechan hasn’t moved from his position on top of Mark, and he hasn’t spoken either—he is just sitting happily on Mark’s hips, looking down at him with a wicked grin on his face.

Mark cocks his head to the side, mouthing up to Haechan _what are you planning,_ because nothing good can ever come from an expression like that. Haechan’s smile only widens, offering no real response for Mark to go off of.

“We’re approaching Pirate’s Cove,” Kun calls over his shoulder on his way out of the room, ushering the rest of the group out in front of him. “Finish up your debauchery sooner versus later so we can set up a plan for today.” 

“Hey, Haechan, can we—” Chenle comes back into the room for a moment, and Mark can see him over Haechan’s shoulder for a fraction of a second before the sight of the captain rolling his eyes takes up his attention. Mark furrows his brows, ready to spout something about respect, but he can’t remember words at all when Haechan is suddenly taking up his whole field of vision and there’s a warm pressure at the corner of his mouth. _“Oh my god are you kidding me?”_ Chenle squeaks, and his hurried footsteps recede from the room followed closely by the sound of the door shutting.

Mark freezes, because this is the last thing he has expected to happen this morning, with waking up next to Haechan being a close second. All in the span of a few seconds, all of the possibilities of reasons why he could be doing this flit through his mind—everything from it just being a distraction, it being a deterrent to get them out of the room, Haechan just playing with Mark’s emotions to get a rise out of him later, even the idea of Haechan actually reciprocating his feelings. Even with all of those options, Mark can’t spare another second to care because everyone else has left the room, no one is watching except for the two of them, and Haechan is still pressing his own lips carefully to Mark’s.

So Mark does what any normal person would do in the situation: kisses the love of his life back with everything he has in him. 

He tilts his head slightly and slots his lips neatly with Haechan’s own, and he can feel the corners of the captain’s mouth curl into a smile at the reciprocation. It doesn’t stay as tame as has begun for long though, because before he knows it, Haechan is licking into his mouth easily. Mark makes a strangled sound of pleasure in the back of his throat and grips Haechan’s harder to keep himself from floating away out of sheer happiness.

Yet, as just as suddenly as it had happened, everything ceases. Haechan’s weight disappears from on top of him, his hands carefully pried out of Mark’s grasp, and Mark is left there alone and cold, lying on the bed. He blinks his eyes open, sitting up in time to see Haechan grabbing his coat from the back of his desk chair.

Haechan sees Mark looking at him, and merely runs a hand through his messy hair before tossing him a wink and opening the door to leave the room. Mark raises a finger to his lips in shock, trying to determine if everything that just happened was real or not.

It only takes him a few moments to confirm the truth of it because as soon as he has his boots on—which he doesn’t even recall taking off last night—he dashes out of the room to see Haechan nowhere in sight, so he begrudgingly walks up to the helm where Yukhei is at the wheel.

“Have fun with Haechan last night?” Yukhei wiggles his eyebrows, distinctly less freaked out than when he had walked into the room the first time. At least that answers his question.

“Nothing happened,” Mark dismisses with a wave of his hand, pointedly ignoring the knowing look that Yukhei throws him. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“It’s about _The Necromancer,_ or, someone who is aboard it,” he says, eyes drifting out towards the horizon.

“Who? Renjun?” Mark squints up at him, the early morning sunlight making it difficult to look off to the starboard side without scrunching up his entire face. 

“No. Jungwoo, actually,” he responds as if that explains everything. 

“Who in the _fuck_ is Jungwoo?” Mark wants to laugh as the words come out of his mouth. He never swore until he met Haechan, and just look at him now. Yukhei takes one hand and reaches inside his shirt, and takes out the key that he always wears on a string of leather around his neck. The one that was given to him by a childhood friend two decades ago. 

“Jungwoo is the boy who gave me this. He gave it to me as a way to remember him because he has the locket that fits this,” Yukhei says all in one breath, clenching his fist around the key. “Jungwoo was on _The Necromancer,_ Mark. He was _there._ I have to go find him and see him again. I wanted to sail to I could travel the world and look for him and now that I know I’m close—”

“No.” Mark holds up his hands, cutting Yukhei off right there. “There’s no way I’m letting you get close to someone of their crew when they pose a real threat.”

“And that is any different than you and Haechan how?” Yukhei raises an eyebrow, an annoyingly smug smirk on his face. Mark opens his mouth and closes it a few times, searching for a defense that doesn’t exist. 

“Fine,” he relents with a huff, crossing his arms. “When we get to Pirate’s Cove, I’ll let you go after Jungwoo on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You come back to me alive, with or without Jungwoo.”

For a moment, it seems as if Yukhei wants to bargain for something else, but one look at Mark’s stoic face tells him that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. It’s this way or nothing, and he knows that Yukhei is going to take whatever slim chance he has in order to get to Jungwoo.

“It’s a deal,” he agrees after a beat. “I give you my word.”

Mark nods his head and looks out across the water in front of the _Helios_ to see land not too far away now. If he looks hard enough, he can make out people walking across the extensive series of docks that make up the port of the Cove.

“Haechan!” He calls. “You should come up here. We’re within minutes of docking.”

There’s a series of thuds below the main deck that are loud enough for Mark to hear up at the helm, which have him concerned before he sees Haechan stumble out of the hold with peals of laughter following him up. He purses his lips, clearly holding back a smile before he makes his way up to Mark and Yukhei at the helm.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, more a statement than a suggestion, but Yukhei takes the hint and hands the wheel off. With one spared glance at the two of them, he takes his leave of the helm and disappears down below deck without a second look. 

Silence fills the space, stretching between them, thick and heavy and awkward. Mark is tempted to ask about the kiss, the way they woke up tangled in each other, why Haechan left as abruptly as he did. He swallows and takes a peek at him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t know what to bring up first or even _how_ to bring it up.

“Doing alright there?” Haechan asks, not once looking over to meet Mark’s hidden gaze. “You’re a little more quiet than usual.”

“Yeah, well, no.” Mark stumbles over the words before clearing his throat and evening out his voice. “You said that you were going to drop us off in Pirate’s Cove and leave us there. You know, right when you rescued me?”

Mark wants to kick himself. Out of everything he could have asked about, _that’s_ what he chose. He almost lets out an irritated sigh, but he doesn’t want Haechan to be able to read into it, so he holds himself back. 

“Things change,” he responds, shrugging. “And besides, we’re talking about Pirate’s Cove here. Populated with nothing but thugs and thieves and witches and pirates that all wouldn’t hesitate for a second to cut off your head. I can’t just leave the admiral of the British navy and secret heir to the throne of England wandering around there with no ship or protection.”

“I have protection.” Mark puts a hand on his hip as casually as he can because his hand had already moved halfway there before he remembered that his sword and gun are still hanging up below deck somewhere in their sheath and holster respectively.

“You’re good, Mark, but if it’s you against an entire island of miscreants, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I’m noticing how you called everyone on that island a miscreant, yet not even weeks ago, were threatening me for disrespecting pirates,” Mark chuckles. Haechan stifles a laugh of his own in response.

“Things change,” he repeats with a smile.

There’s quite again between them, but it’s less stifling. Mark wants to ask the hundreds of other burning questions on the tip of his tongue, but Haechan just reaches over and tugs Mark closer by the waist. His hands finds its way under Mark’s coat, gently running his fingers over the strip of bared skin that has been exposed in the early morning sunlight. He shivers at the touch—his shirt must have ridden up overnight. 

Mark doesn’t know how safe docking an entire ship is with one hand on the wheel, but Haechan manages it with unparalleled grace and ease; his other hand never leaves its place on Mark’s waist, even when the rest of the crew slowly emerge from down below, taking their stations one by one. 

He leans into Haechan’s side, almost tempted to let himself be lulled back to sleep between the warm touch on his skin and the gentle rocking of the ship on the low waves that crest and break on the hull of the _Helios._ He lets his rough fingertips rub circles onto his hip until Haechan’s calloused palm leans in far enough to squeeze it gently before retreating his hand entirely. 

“Jaemin,” Haechan calls, shooting Mark a look he can’t read before he steps away. “You stay back with the _Helios._ Anyone else who wishes to stay as well may, but if you choose to leave you must be back before sunset.”

“Got it, captain.” Jaemin hops down from his seat on the railing with a grin. “Any other orders?”

“Ah, yes.” He nods to himself thoughtfully. “Everyone must stay away from the west side of the port. Mark and I will be finding Yangyang there, and the last thing we need is accidental interference, even by any of you.”

“But—” Jisung starts to protest.

“Just listen to me, Sungie,” Haechan sighs. “Just this once. Please.”

The use of the word “please” seems to do the trick and placates the youngest crew member for the time being. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, gnawing on it thoughtfully, but backs down without too much time passing. Haechan turns to Mark, sizing him up in a way that makes him absently tuck his shirt back into his trousers so Mark doesn’t have to have his eyes linger on his bare skin any longer.

“As for you…” He bites the tip of his pinky, scanning him up and down until he quirks an eyebrow, seemingly having reached some sort of internal decision. “Hold on.”

Haechan hurries away down the steps that lead to the main deck and takes a quick turn to disappear into his cabin. Before Mark can even look at Yukhei—who is on the main deck and probably has a better view of what’s going on—about what Haechan is doing, he returns. He’s carrying a bundle of dark fabric in his arms, and he climbs the stairs back up to the helm and tosses it to Mark.

“What is this?” 

“It’s a cloak,” he explains, already moving back down to the gangplank that Jeno has just finished setting out with the help of some dock workers. “Put it on as we walk. We don’t have as much time as I’d like.”

Mark wraps it around his shoulders and, after taking his sword and pistol from a waiting Yukhei, rushes after Haechan’s long strides down the gangplank and onto the dock. Pirate’s Cove is unfamiliar to him—he’s never had the need to want to go there, and it’s never guaranteed that someone like him would ever make it out of a place like this alive, which is probably why Haechan gave him the cloak.

“This is because I’m the admiral?” Mark voices his thoughts as he tugs the hood over his head. Haechan hums, affirming his suspicions.

“Be careful where you say that. You never know who is listening,” he warns, taking a sharp turn off of the first dock and onto a second one. “Stay close to me and try not to look anyone in the eye.”

“Do people here know who you are?” Mark asks, looking around at the assortment of people milling around on the docks, walking to and from ships or just lingering with no clear purpose.

“I killed the last person who took over Pirate’s Cove, more or less freeing it because I chose not to stay.” He shrugs, glancing back at Mark. “People here will recognize me, but they’ll leave me alone for the most part. I can do business as I please and generally they won’t attempt to interfere.”

“And when they do interfere?” He prompts, sensing that Haechan left something off.

“My skills with a blade have never gotten rusty,” he says with a smile. “Now come on. We have a stop to make before we can find Yangyang.”

“Where are we headed?”

“I know someone who knows every single thing there is to know about each person that steps foot in this place. If anyone knows where Yangyang is, it will be her.”

Mark is trying to keep track of which turns they take along the cramped streets so he knows how to get back to the _Helios_ if it turns out to be necessary, but he doesn’t remember if the last turn they took was a right or a left, so he gives up and just follows behind Haechan as closely as he can. Eventually, they make it to a bar of some sort that’s so densely populated, they have to shove their way inside.

The moment Haechan enters, though, golden earring glinting in the mixture of filtered sunlight through the grimy windows and dim lamplight from the lanterns along the walls, the entire room falls silent. There are murmurs of his name that follow them as they pass, and Mark feels his heart speed up.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen.” Haechan speaks with such clarity and confidence that Mark almost jumps. “Where can I find Wendy today?”

“She’s with Sooyoung out back,” someone calls from the opposite side of the room. Haechan tips his head in acknowledgement.

“Ah, back with Joy again? I see,” he says, more to himself than anything. “Carry on,” he addresses the packed room once more. Someone smashes a bottle against the ground and the crowd erupts into chaos again, acting no different than the second before they had entered.

“Who is Wendy? And Sooyoung?” Mark has to shout for his voice to reach Haechan’s ears, but when it does, the captain simply tips his head back and laughs.

“You’ll see,” he answers quite unhelpfully, but leads Mark towards a door on the opposite wall that he hadn’t spotted before. “Just through here.”

Haechan pushes the door open to reveal a small alleyway and two women, standing closely and talking in hushed voices. The moment they see the door swing open, the taller one of the two steps forward in front of the other protectively.

“Haechan,” she addresses him. “What are you doing back here?”

“Last time I checked this was a free port, Joy” he shoots back before looking at the other woman. “Wendy I need to ask you a question.”

“You don’t need to speak with her,” Joy hisses, her eyes narrowing. “Scram before I kick your ass.”

“Ah, I believe I was the one to kick your ass when we fought.” Haechan grins. “But it’s a very quick question and I’ll be done before you know it.”

“What do you want, Haechan?” The shorter woman, Wendy, puts a hand on Joy’s arm to have her back down. “If Sooyoung is wary of your presence, then you must ask quickly. I will not endanger anyone here for your sake, regardless of what I owe you.”

“Do you know where to find a witch named Yangyang?” Haechan asks and Joy visibly recoils at the sound of the name. Mark is still caught up on the fact that Wendy owes Haechan for some unknown reason, and it takes him a moment to catch up with the conversation.

“I don’t know what magic you intend to meddle with by asking for him, but I highly advise against it,” Wendy informs them carefully, looking between Haechan and Mark. “There have been many who come in search of him but not many who survive to tell the tale.”

“He has some information that we need,” Haechan tells her. “We aren’t asking for any curses or magical favors. I’ve dealt with enough magic in my lifetime already for everyone in that bar combined.”

Wendy looks him up and down before turning her attention to Mark. Her eyes linger on his face which is hidden under the shadow of his hood, but he can’t help but feel exposed. It feels like she sees right through him, and he can’t stop from baring the depths of his soul to her prying eyes. As soon as the feeling came, though, it disappears as she affixes her gaze on Haechan once more.

“I can’t stop you from finding him, so I will aide you on the condition that you don’t come back for a while. It’s not safe for you here anymore,” she says. “You’ll find the chaos witch on the western outskirts of town, a blue sign and windows that mimic the ocean is where he resides.”

Mark doesn’t know exactly what to make of Wendy’s words, but Haechan takes them all in stride. It seems as if they all make sense to the captain, but Mark can’t tell for sure, so he simply nods at the women in thanks while Haechan shakes Joy’s hand and hugs Wendy tightly. It reminds Mark of how he greeted Seulgi and Irene back on Pearl Bay and the resemblance piques his curiosity.

He doesn’t know what causes him to make that connection in his head, but he reminds himself to ask Haechan about it later after they’re done. They don’t have time for idle conversation because Haechan is already turning around and heading back through the same door they came in. Mark follows him as closely as he can but the crowd is too dense and he loses sight of him somewhere in the middle.

“Hold on.” A large hand comes out, splayed wide on Mark’s chest to stop him. “Who are you?”

“No one,” he responds and makes a move to continue towards the door that Haechan has surely made it out of by now, but his hood is yanked down and Mark whirls, drawing his sword.

“You look like that one guy from the English fleet!” The man who had stopped him accuses, and that sentence is enough to turn the heads of the majority of the room. “Mark Lee,” he snarls, putting a hand on his own sword, but Mark steps forward to press the tip of his blade to the man’s neck.

“I highly advise you retract your accusation, good fellow,” Mark hisses lowly. “Or my hand might just slip and your head will no longer be attached to your shoulders.”

The man opens his mouth to respond, a couple others around them reaching for their weapons as well, but the door banging back open stops them.

“There you are!” Haechan saunters in, turning heads as he goes until he’s standing next to Mark, looking out on the scene in front of them. “Why do you have your sword at Minho’s neck?” Mark doesn’t have time to think of a response before the man, Minho, scowls darkly. He doesn’t even want to think about how Haechan knows this guy because he is sure it won’t improve his mood by much.

“That right there is Mark Lee. I’ve seen him with my own eyes when he came to Singapore a few years ago and took down our whole operation,” Minho growls. “And he looks exactly like you.”

Mark knows exactly which operation Minho is talking about. Roughly two years ago he had been sent to Singapore by the King due to reports of missing supplies and mysterious cases high-ranking officials turning up dead. It was suspected that pirates had been behind it, and Mark and his crew had gone in to discover that was very true. Within a week, they had killed or imprisoned most of the members of the group running the whole thing, with the rest of them having fled. 

“This isn’t Mark Lee. You know just as well as anyone that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill the man if I ever saw him in the flesh again,” Haechan crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Then why did he get so defensive when I asked, hm?” Minho looks smug, too proud of his tiny little brain for coming up with that.

“Because he’s a runaway and he doesn’t like people knowing who he is so he doesn’t have to go back,” he continues to defend Mark effortlessly, weaving a story so intricate that it makes Mark consider the idea of him coming up with it before this. “He was owned at a brothel that I broke into more or less accidentally, and he caught my eye so I took him away and kept him around.”

“You lie, Haechan,” Minho spits. “Prove that he’s not Mark Lee or I will slit his throat.”

“I think Minhyung here would slit yours before you could even think about moving your pinky finger towards your sword, but,” Haechan ponders with a growing smile. “I might have just the way to prove it.”

With no further warning, Haechan whirls on Mark and hooks his index finger under Mark’s chin. He runs his thumb gently over his lower lip and looks at him in question. Mark doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, but he nods nonetheless. Haechan leans forward and slots their lips together, immediately diving in with tongue and teeth.

Mark almost drops the sword at Minho’s throat to hold Haechan, but he miraculously doesn’t. He lets the captain pull away a few seconds later, sees his reddened, slick lips, and can’t help but wonder if he looks the same. 

“And what is that supposed to prove to me?” Minho asks, but his voice is quieter and the tips of his ears are turning red. He won’t quite meet Mark’s eye anymore, and it’s clear that he knows he lost this argument and is continuing for the sake of his dignity, or whatever is left of it.

“If he really was the commander of the British navy and my sworn enemy, would I really be letting his tongue in my mouth?” Haechan tears his eyes away from Mark to look back at Minho.

“I suppose you’re right,” he scoffs, but it’s halfhearted and no real heat to it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Haechan puts a hand on Mark’s, forcing him to lower his blade. “We have a meeting to get to.”

Mark sheaths his sword with a last threatening look across the crowded bar before following Haechan outside and putting up his hood again, uninterrupted this time. They walk side by side down the street in silence until the bar is long gone behind them.

“I can’t believe you were the one griping at me about the possibility of getting recognized and then _this_ happens?” It’s obvious that Haechan is teasing when he’s referring to Mark’s words at back at Hendery’s ball, and it gives him a rush—thinking of all of the other things that happened that night as well.

“I suppose I did threaten him in a way, didn’t I?”

“You sure as hell did,” Haechan snorts. “Now you have no reason to ever get on my case about this anymore.”

And they continue on as if nothing was ever wrong in the first place, knuckles brushing between them when the streets get continue to narrow down. Mark trusts Haechan’s knowledge of the Cove, and isn’t even a bit hesitant to follow him all the way until they stop in front of a very unassuming storefront labeled _Wayv_ in faded blue lettering.

“Did they spell ‘wavy’ wrong?” Mark has to ask before he can stop himself, but Haechan just lifts his shoulders and squints.

“I have no idea. Let’s just hope we found the right place, yeah?” Haechan says, already pushing the door open.

There’s a bell that rings faintly in the back of the shop, but it’s otherwise silent when they step inside. There are shelves upon shelves of trinkets and jars that leave Mark curious as to their purpose before he remembers that this is a witch’s shop and he probably shouldn’t touch anything.

“Yangyang?” Haechan calls out, his voice firm but his expression a little more hesitant. “We’ve come under the instruction of Hendery to visit you.”

“Ooh, Hendery was cute,” a light voice replies from somewhere amongst the musty rows of items. “If you’re not as cute I might kick you out on sight.”

“Come take a look, then,” Haechan challenges, walking towards where the voice came from. Floaty laughter fills the room and there’s a tap on Mark’s shoulder that has him whirling around, his hand reaching for his sword but there’s nothing there.

Instead, there’s a boy in front of him, twirling Mark’s blade between his fingers, a smile twisting in his lips and shaggy brown hair flopping over his eyes. Just by his looks he’s rather unassuming, but by actions Mark is already on high alert.

“Very beautiful sword,” he muses, looking at it. “Good craftsmanship, well balanced, sharp…” He glances up at Mark. “Suits a prince rather well, doesn’t it?”

“How…?” Mark startles backward, reaching for his pistol, but the boy laughs again, holding out the sword by the blade so Mark can take the handle.

“I was there when you were born, Minhyung,” he responds, as if that explains everything and doesn’t leave him with a dozen other questions in its place. “Your gun is on the shelf behind you by the way.”

Mark hesitantly takes his sword back, and sure enough, when he looks behind him, his pistol is resting between an ornate bookend and some sort of bone that he doesn’t really want to identify. 

“How old are you, exactly?” Mark asks, frowning. The boy just shrugs.

“I’m not sure. I lost count somewhere after a thousand.” He suddenly gasps. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Yangyang, proud high witch of the seas!”

“What does that title even mean?” Mark wonders aloud, not even realizing he voiced his thoughts until Yangyang replies.

“It pretty much means that all other magic wielders are scared of me and gave me that title in order to appease me,” he sighs. “All I wanted was friends but they’re all so young and lame. No one respects their elders these days,” Yangyang pauses before letting a smile grow on his lips. “Especially not you, Haechan. Pointing swords at people without explanation isn’t very nice.”

“What are you playing at Yangyang?” Haechan says, and Mark looks around to see him standing there behind  the witch, his blade brushing the unruly strands of hair at the base of his neck. 

“Nothing, Haechan. You _do_ still go by that, right?” Yangyang takes a step closer to Mark so Haechan’s sword is no longer twisting in his hair.

“I’ve gone by that name for over a decade.” Haechan scowls and lowers his blade slightly. “Now can you help us or not?”

“If you were sent by Hendery, then I presume we both know what you want,” Yangyang says softly. “In that case, I _can_ help you, but nothing comes for free.”

“Name your price,” Haechan replies without missing a beat.

Yangyang doesn’t say anything for a moment—he simply cocks his head to the side before motioning them to follow him. As they weave through the aisles, Mark tries not to think about any of the objects too hard because all of them look somewhat suspicious.

“You must prove your worth before I can tell you. Although everything comes with a price, I must know that I am giving it to someone who is deserving,” he finally says, pausing at the back wall. Mark raises an eyebrow.

“How do we do that?”

“If you can make it through this wall, my magic has deemed you worthy of doing business with. If you can’t, then I’ll have to kill you,” Yangyang monotones, drinking in the reactions that Mark and Haechan give him before a smile erupts on his face and he laughs again. “I’m just kidding. I’ll just send you along and you’ll have to find the Isle all on your lonesome.”

Haechan nods and without a second to spare, marches straight forward and phases through the solid wall in front of them. Mark gasps, a hand reaching out to follow, but he hits wood and can’t go past. He looks at Yangyang, panicked.

“Why can’t I go through?”

“Ah, I forgot,” he says unapologetically. “Only one person at a time.”

“But—”

“You are worthy, Minhyung Lee, crown prince of England. I can feel the purity of your heart and the clarity of your soul, but my magic can only allow one guest at a time,” he explains.

“Why couldn’t Hendery get through the wall?” Mark asks, the question occurring to him.

“Oh, he got through, but didn’t accept the terms I laid out for him,” Yangyang smiles sadly. “It was a good choice on his part, most likely. Not everyone can pay the price for what I have to offer.”

“What kind of a price would you have that Hendery wouldn’t accept?”

“The price I offer counters what you ask for. In his case, it was his greatest desire, and my price was facing his greatest fear. I do believe the same will happen for your Haechan.”

“Can I know what his price is?” Mark begs, but Yangyang just shakes his head, already taking a step through the wall.

“If he chooses to tell you about what he paid, he may, but it is never my place to say.”

Mark doesn’t get the chance to reply again before Yangyang takes another step and disappears. He rushes forward to press on the wall again, but it’s just as solid as the first time he tried. Mark turns his back to it and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor with his head resting against the wood paneling. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, watching the sun slowly set through the stained glass windows on the front of Yangyang’s shop. Mark would nod off, but he’s too amped up with anticipation for sleep right now. So he sits and waits for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours, unsure of what to do with himself.

Eventually, he gets up again and begins to explore the shop, running his fingers over various objects and inspecting the contents of the strangest looking bottles. His anxiety levels are at an all-time high because everything that is happening is completely out of his control and he hates it.

Mark is the type of person that likes to know when, where, and how everything is happening around him, and with whom. Yet he finds himself here, without any influence on the success rate and it frustrates him to no end because all he wants to do is jump in and help, or at least to _listen_ to what is happening behind that wall.

The sun is glowing golden by the time he sits back down again, his back pressed up against the wood once more. He contemplates the idea of Yangyang having killed Haechan, but he doesn’t have any time to really process that thought before someone stumbles back through the magical wall. A blur of red and gold at the top of their head tells Mark that it’s Haechan and he’s back alive. 

“How did it go?” Mark stands up in such a hurry that he almost falls over, but Haechan is right there to catch his arm and hold him steady. He takes a moment to just look at Haechan and take him in, knowing that he’s okay and safe. Before Haechan can give any sort of answer to Mark, Yangyang slips out from the wall again.

“You may discuss this outside, but I must have you leave,” Yangyang looks harried, and when Mark looks over at Haechan, his expression is very similar. “I have important business to attend to, and you both will have your own things to do quite shortly, I sense.”

Neither Mark nor Haechan can open their mouths to question anything before Yangyang is ushering them back through the dingy rows of shelves and back out of the front door, where he flashes them a wink before disappearing back inside without so much as a goodbye.

“What was the price?” He turns to Haechan, trying to shake the weirdness of that whole encounter with Yangyang out of his mind because he knows it will just mess with him. “What did it cost you to know?”

“He said that I will pay it soon, later today even,” he says slowly. “But he told me what’s going to happen, and I’ve come to terms with it. Don’t worry about it, though. Everything is going to be alright.”

“So you know where the Isle is now?” Mark prods eagerly, hoping the trip was successful and they ended up with what they needed. He brushes off the fact that Haechan clearly glossed over what Yangyang’s price for the information is, knowing that he can get it out of him later.

“Mark,” he breathes, eyes wide and beautiful. “We’ve been looking for the wrong thing the whole time! It’s so simple! I can’t believe I never caught on before!”

“Woah, woah, _what?_ We’ve been looking for the wrong thing? What do you mean?” Mark grabs Haechan’s shoulders and feels him practically vibrating beneath his touch.

“I mean that—” Haechan begins, but a deafening explosion rocks the very ground they’re standing on.

It takes a glance between them to know that they’re both thinking the same thing: Taeyong has arrived in Pirate’s Cove and is clearly less than happy. They don’t have to exchange a word between them before they’re off running back towards the docks on the west side of the island. Mark can only tell because they’re running towards the setting sun and he has to put a hand over his eyes to make sure he isn’t about to knock into anything. 

Everyone else is running away from that side of the port, so it’s easy to know that they’re headed in the right direction when they split through a crowd of people headed the opposite way down the street. It doesn’t take long before they finally emerge from the narrow, twisting roads of the city and dash out to the docks with no hesitation.

And there it is: _The Necromancer_ in her full glory—even in broad daylight this time so Mark can truly grasp just how magnificently terrifying the ship is. There’s no longer a front to a building at the entrance to the docks, clearly having received cannonfire from the ship when she arrived.

“What’s the plan?” Mark pants out to Haechan when they pause just before the solid cobblestone turns to wooden planks high over the water. He kicks absently at a piece of brick at his feet, having been blown from the barely-standing building behind them.

“We need to get Renjun out of there and stop Taeyong,” Haechan replies, still trying to catch his own breath. “The order in which those two happen is interchangeable.”

“What if—” Mark’s question flies right out of his head when something akin to an ancient battle cry rings out, and both of their heads shoot up to see someone charging down the docks straight towards them.

“You take him,” Haechan instructs, already backing away. “I’ve got Taeyong.”

Mark doesn’t even _see_ Taeyong until Haechan says his name, and it takes him a moment to realize why. The other man charging down the docks is loud and huge, whereas Taeyong is taking his time slinking around the maze of a pier, slowly approaching them from a roundabout way. He’s lucky that Haechan spotted him because Mark is relatively sure that he wouldn’t have until it was too late.

“Go, go, go!” Mark tells him before going off to meet the other man. He recognizes him from the night Port Royal, but there’s something awfully familiar about him that Mark can’t quite place. It’s not until they clash blades for the first time does it finally click in Mark’s mind as to who this man is.

“Johnny?” He asks, incredulous. He hasn’t seen the man in a decade, possibly more. He is years older than Mark and started in the Naval Academy a long time before Mark started, but he always used to see the bright man horsing around with the younger kids and helping them with their studies. He was presumed dead in a shipwreck long ago, but it looks like he survived. 

“How do you know me?” Johnny snarls. “What kind of game are you playing?”

Mark wants to tell Johnny who he is, but it isn’t worth it. He clearly can’t trust him and the last thing he needs is him spreading around the fact that the admiral of the royal navy has been at Pirate’s Cove because that would land him in loads of hot water with both his father and possibly other sailors. So, Mark responds how he knows best: with his sword.

It’s evenly matched to begin with. Johnny is good, that much is clear, and Mark wants to be impressed by the moves that he has clearly learned outside of his instruction at the academy. Mark makes a mental note to ask Haechan for a sparring lesson at some point—he has the feeling that they could both learn a lot from each other. However, that isn’t the focus right now.

The focus is Johnny ceaselessly raining blow after blow at Mark, leaving him scrambling to parry and dodge in any way he can. It annoys him to no end because he’s better on the offensive but he can’t seem to get a good swing in. Well, he can’t until Johnny leaves a gaping hole in his stance and Mark takes the opportunity to swipe left and cut him straight up his dominant arm. 

He howls in pain and recoils, but the volume is nothing compared to the gunshot that goes off not too far away. Mark takes a second to look over and sees Taeyong tossing a pistol into the water and Haechan leaping up from a crouched position, probably to dodge the bullet Taeyong just shot at him, before swinging at Taeyong with a ferocity that Mark has never seen on him.

He can’t look for long, though, because Johnny has switched the hand he’s fighting with, and now Mark’s _really_ impressed. He himself can fight decently with his left hand, but not nearly with the precision and fluidity that he can with his right. Being an ambidextrous fighter can give so many advantages, and the moment Mark clashes blades with Johnny again, it throws him off because of the different angle.

It takes him a moment too long to adjust to because Johnny is advancing on him again, and Mark is left to assume the defensive again. They continue to go at each other, neither one giving up, until the scale slowly begins to tip in Mark’s favor and he forces Johnny to resort to a more defensive stance. As much as Johnny may have brute strength on his side, but Mark has the agility and quick thinking to dodge his powerful attacks. 

It’s not long before Mark twirls his sword just right and Johnny’s own blade goes flying off of the edge of the dock and into the water below. There’s a yell off to his left that sounds distinctly like Haechan, and Mark knows he doesn’t have time. He doesn’t even think about killing Johnny because for him, it’s not an option. Even if he no longer is part of the navy, he was still someone that Mark looked up to for years, and he will not bring himself to drive a sword through a man he respected like that.

With a swift kick to Johnny’s thigh, the man stumbles backwards just far enough that he slips off of the edge of the dock and tumbles into the water right after his sword, although Mark doubts he will be able to find it.

He doesn’t spare another second thinking about Johnny because there’s another yell from Haechan and the sound of grinding metal already has Mark leaping across the water between docks to reach him faster.

By the time he reaches him with the intent to help, Haechan seems to be easily holding his own. It’s a little difficult to tell with the sheer speed that he and Taeyong are moving at, but it seems as if Haechan has the upper hand and Taeyong is in more of a defensive position. 

“Haechan I’m coming!” Mark calls, readying himself to run over and challenge Taeyong from behind.

“No, don’t—!” Haechan yells back, his attention pulled away from Taeyong for a split second to reply to Mark, but it’s enough for Taeyong to take advantage of. He leaps at Haechan in his moment of distraction and tackles him down onto the dock, pinning him there with a sword at his throat. Taeyong rids Haechan of his own blade, flinging it into the water with no time wasted.

“You know where the Isle is or how to find it, and if you don’t tell me, I will slit your throat. Right here, right now.” Taeyong is speaking lowly, but his voice travels enough for Mark to be able to discern the words. He presses his sword into Haechan’s neck slightly, and blood rolls down the sides of his neck in beads, staining the dock a dull red. 

Another scar, another story; if he lives to tell the tale. Mark cries out at the sight, unable to stop himself.

Taeyong turns toward the noise, raising an eyebrow and turning his sword so he is pressing the flat of the blade into Haechan’s windpipe, making him struggle and choke.

“Who is your little friend over there, young captain?” He taunts. “I remember him from last time. He’s much cuter in daylight, though.” Haechan doesn’t even have the time to try and respond before Mark is tossing off his cloak, revealing his jacket with the badge of an admiral on the sleeve and medals over his breast.

“I am admiral Mark Lee of his Majesty the King’s navy, and I command that you release him at once.” Mark’s voice rings straight and true, and he vaguely hopes that no one who was in Wendy’s bar earlier is watching this now. 

Mark doesn’t exactly expect Taeyong to let him go this easily, but he also doesn’t expect him to laugh so raucously at his introduction.

“How did you manage to pick up Britain’s most revered captain as your little sea pet?” Taeyong turns to Haechan momentarily, never once relieving the pressure on his throat. He looks back at Mark. “Are you lost or something?” 

Mark narrows his eyes at both the name and the tone that Taeyong uses—the borderline teasing makes his skin crawl. He has to tear his eyes away from how Haechan is so visibly struggling against the sword at his neck and the weight of the other captain on top of his chest, most likely making it extraordinarily difficult to breathe.

“Let him go, Taeyong,” Mark tells him. His voice doesn’t shake, but when he raises his sword to point it at him, the tip of it quivers just slightly. Taeyong rolls his eyes and opens his mouth again to make a comment, but something makes him stop.

Mark realizes belatedly that Haechan is somehow forcing words out of his throat where even air can’t squeeze through, and although he can’t make out what he’s saying exactly, Mark knows it’s important enough for Taeyong to pause and listen. His eyebrows jump up to his hairline as Haechan’s lips stop moving, and a sickening smile grows on his face.

“The young captain has pleaded a bargain,” he announces so loudly that Mark has to glance around to see if anyone else is out there listening—no one is. “He has said that I can take him alive and he’ll lead me to the Isle if I give him back the captive,” he relays.

“Haechan, _no!”_ Mark shakes his head, anxiety pooling in his stomach unpleasantly. He realizes that this isn’t going to turn out well when Taeyong simply grins wider.

“Your pet says no, but I say yes.” Taeyong agrees, clearly pleased with how this is turning out. “Although you don’t have much to barter with right now, I don’t think your little friend on board right now can lead me to the Isle, so be glad that your bargaining chip of knowledge is enough for me.”

He pulls Haechan up into a standing position and starts to lead him back up the section they’re standing on, at the end of which is _The Necromancer,_ floating peacefully as if she’s not going to be responsible for taking two people Mark has grown close to. Haechan stops him after a few steps, though, and rasps something else out for Taeyong to hear.

“You won’t board until you see him alive and well?” Taeyong hums, tipping his head, contemplating the situation. “Alright, then. Bring him out, Jungwoo!”

Mark hears the name and recognizes it as the one Yukhei was telling him about earlier, but he can’t focus on it enough to do anything about it when Haechan is in danger of being taken away from him. Haechan’s head gaze snaps towards _The Necromancer_ and Mark follows it to see Renjun being hauled down the gangplank by a man with eyes too kind to be doing the deeds he is. 

Renjun himself looks a little bruised and tired, but otherwise in good health. Renjun walks up to Haechan, completely disregarding Taeyong standing there, and pulls his captain into a tight hug. From this angle, Mark can see Haechan slip him something from the pocket of his coat, but it happens too fast for Mark to be able to see what it is. Renjun pulls away shortly after and hastily walks away from Haechan before Taeyong can do something to him.

Mark runs forward, brushing past Renjun on his way. He’s determined not to let Haechan go, but all of a sudden there’s a towering wall of sopping wet man in front of him, and Mark looks up slightly to make eye contact with Johnny. He’s giving Mark a murderous glare, and has placed a hand on Mark’s chest to keep him from advancing. 

Having sheathed his sword earlier when Renjun came into view, Mark now draws his pistol and points it straight at his head. Johnny doesn’t know that Mark has no intentions of killing him, and it plays in his favor because Johnny draws back immediately. Before he can alert Taeyong, who is now facing away, Mark kicks him in the leg for a second time and sends him toppling back into the water.

He wants to laugh at how comical it is that the same trick worked twice, but he doesn’t have the time to spare because the splash of Johnny hitting the water below the pier makes Taeyong whirl around, his sword still neatly nestled under Haechan’s adam’s apple.

“I can shoot you faster than you can slit his throat so I advise you to step away.” Mark moves forward slowly, the pistol still raised. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark sees Renjun holding Jungwoo’s hands behind his back and knows that the only enemy he has to focus on right now is Taeyong.

“You wouldn’t dare try,” Taeyong tries, moving to line himself up with Haechan. “You could miss and hit the very person you are trying to save.”

Mark cocks it with a smirk, his eyes narrowing as he takes aim.

“I am the best shot in the entire royal navy. I highly recommend that you don’t take your chances here.”

Much to Mark’s surprise, Taeyong steps back and takes his sword with him, his red hair ruffling in the light breeze. Haechan heaves in a deep breath at last, doubling over as he sucks fresh air into his chest by the lungful. Taeyong has backed far enough away from Haechan that Mark can stalk forward and slide right in between them.

“Are you willing to challenge me to a duel?” Taeyong asks, holding up his sword and pointing it at Mark, the tip grazing the barrel of his pistol.

“No,” Mark replies honestly. “But I am willing to do this.”

He pulls the same move that Taeyong had used on Haechan not too long ago, and lunges at him full force, knocking him over. Before Taeyong has time to retaliate, Mark drops his gun and draws his sword, stabbing it straight through Taeyong’s outstretched palm and wedging the tip of the blade solidly into the dock. 

He screams out in pain so horrifically that Mark considers taking it out for a moment, but instead he just twists it in place before snatching Taeyong’s abandoned sword. Putting it through his other palm would be unnecessarily cruel, so Mark just sticks it through the sleeve of Taeyong’s coat, holding down his other arm and essentially pinning him to the dock.

Mark doesn’t spare another glance at Taeyong as he hops off of him and runs to Haechan, pulling him straight into his chest and burying his face in his neck. Nothing matters because he has Haechan back in his embrace and the world seems to find its balance again. 

“You don’t have to do this, Haechan,” he murmurs against the skin before pulling away to look at his face. “This won’t last. I’ve only bought us some time to get away with Renjun and—”

“I have to do this, Mark.” Haechan smiles lightly, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes that makes Mark’s stomach sink. “Trust goes two ways, remember?”

“Wait—” Mark tries to protest, but Haechan curls a hand around the side of his face, letting his other hand drop to Mark’s collarbone so he can press on a fading hickey. Mark gasps at the feeling, cutting himself off. Haechan had left that hickey there the night of Hendery’s ball, and Mark is decently surprised that he still remembers where it is. A shiver travels up Mark’s spine in such a way that he has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he finds a smile curling at Haechan’s lips delicately.

Haechan presses their foreheads together, their breaths mingling, their noses just barely touching, and if Mark is to lean forward and tilt his head _just right_ , their lips can meet as well. Mark swallows his inhibitions and does just that, a smile gracing his mouth in time to match up perfectly with Haechan’s. 

It’s just him and Haechan for a moment, bodies pressed up against one another and lips sealed in a kiss so soft that it throws Mark for a loop—all of the kisses that he has shared with Haechan before have been driven by such _want_ and _power_ that it’s been overwhelming, bordering on harsh at times.

This is different, though, so real, so raw, and so _so_ gentle.

This is an apology, a greeting, a “you’re my everything”, and something else Mark can’t take the time to identify all wrapped up in something so sweet yet so gut-wrenching that Mark has to grasp Haechan’s shoulders just to ground himself.

All is right in the world for a moment, and Mark feels at peace between the careful hand on his waist and the calloused palm resting on his cheek and the slow movement of Haechan’s lips against his own. 

However, he forgets for a moment that the whole world is against him, so when he feels the barrel of a gun press into the back of his head and the sound of it being cocked vibrate through his skull, Mark can’t even find it within himself to be surprised. Haechan must have heard it too because when Mark opens his eyes, he finds himself staring straight into blue.

Mark realizes belatedly that Haechan is mouthing words against his lips, barely whispering them out.

“...Renjun has the journal, just remember that night at Simon’s, and know that I—” Haechan is ripped away from him before he can finish and Mark wants to cry out again when he sees another man standing behind Haechan, holding him there. One hand is pulling his hair back and the other has a sword at his throat. A few paces away, Taeyong is standing up, cradling his injury, and Mark feels a sick sense of pleasure to know that he’s in pain.

Haechan shows no sign of surprise, as if he has been expecting this all along, and everything clicks all at once. The undefinable part of their kiss was a goodbye. Haechan knew what was going to happen all along, and _knew_ that him being taken was inevitable and he tried to tell Mark. But Mark, once again, hadn’t listened.

This must be the price that Yangyang had given him, although Mark isn’t sure why. It doesn’t make sense. Why would this have anything to do with Haechan’s greatest fear? Nothing makes sense anymore and Mark is left in the dark once again.

He wants to scream out in frustration, but instead he just stands there, watching as Taeyong grins in a way that bares all of his teeth dangerously. Haechan struggles for a moment, and Mark reaches forward to their fingers can interlock. Upon seeing this, Taeyong laughs, loud and sharp.

“Valiant effort, admiral, but I’m afraid that this little love story has come to an end.”

With the last word, the man yanks Haechan’s head back by a fistful of hair and presses his sword a little harder into the taut skin, and Mark can’t do anything as the rivulets of blood flow down his neck because the next thing he knows, Haechan’s fingers are tightening around his own for a split second and then the man is dragging him farther away to follow Taeyong and their hands lose contact.

“Jungwoo?” A shout rings across the docks and it stops everyone in their tracks. Mark turns his head carefully to see Yukhei sprinting up towards them, and the gun drops from the back of Mark’s head.

“Xuxi?” The voice is so quiet that even Mark, standing so close, almost doesn’t hear it. Mark isn’t focusing on that, though, because he is already chasing after Taeyong who is still dragging Haechan along the dock that leads to _The Necromancer._  

He gets to them and feels Haechan’s hands brace themselves on his chest, but just as he reaches for the blade pressed against his neck, there’s the sound of fabric ripping and a burning pain up his arm, and Mark stumbles back until he loses contact with Haechan. Mark reaches across his body, feeling the area carefully before hissing and taking his blood-coated finger away. There’s a slice up his arm, and although it’s not deep, it’s painful.

He opens his eyes to see Haechan, now in Taeyong’s grasp, and now with Mark’s handkerchief clutched between his fingers, the other man already boarding back onto _The Necromancer._ What scares Mark so much about it, however, is not the blood soaking into the collar of Haechan’s shirt and jacket from his neck, no, it’s the fear in his eyes. Haechan doesn’t get frightened, so the fact that Mark can see it from this distance, clear as day in his bright blue eyes, is the most terrifying sight.

All of a sudden, his view is blocked by a dripping shadowy figure and Mark groans, both in pain and annoyance. Johnny is there again, standing over him, a sword angled down at his abdomen, poised to strike.

Mark rolls to the side and straight off the edge of the dock. He faintly hears the dull thud of a blade sticking itself into wood before he hits the water several yards below, and he surfaces a moment later to see Johnny unlodging his sword from the dock where his stomach had been not a moment before. The saltwater viciously stings at the wound on his arm, and Mark knows that he has to tend to it very soon.

Johnny’s face grins down at him from over the edge; he doesn’t say anything, only pulling his sword out of the dock with a flourish before backing away and disappearing from Mark’s view. He looks around him until he sees a ladder not too far from where he has tumbled into the water, and uses his good arm to paddle himself over to it.

Climbing it is a whole new level of difficult given how heavy his clothes are and how he only really has one functioning arm, but he manages to poke his head above the level of the dock in time to see Yukhei talking rapidly with a man holding a gun, and Mark can only make the assumption that it’s the man who had the very same pistol pressed up against his head.

Jungwoo, Mark realizes. The man with the gun is Jungwoo. 

Yukhei is saying something that Mark can’t make out as he reaches into the collar of his shirt and pulls out the key that he always wears on a chain around his neck. Jungwoo takes a half step backwards as he reaches into his own shirt to pull out something that Mark can’t see from his vantage point. Once again, a gunshot goes off, and both Yukhei and Jungwoo startle away from one another. Mark whips his head around to see Johnny standing on the gangplank of _The Necromancer,_ a gun pointed straight up in the air.

Mark scans the docks for a moment, glancing between the planks and Johnny’s hand for a moment before the realization hits him. The bastard stole his pistol, and by the looks of his expression, is clearly very smug about it. He’s beckoning Jungwoo with the crook of his finger, but his eyes never leave Mark’s.

Jungwoo hesitates for a split second before leaning in to press a chaste kiss on Yukhei’s cheek. With wide eyes, he turns tail and runs back to his ship, not sparing a glance backwards at a blushing Yukhei that he left behind. 

Mark hauls himself the rest of the way up the ladder, lying down on the dock to catch his breath and let the adrenaline wear off. It’s worthless to try and go after _The Necromancer_ at this point because he’s completely outnumbered and his right arm is the one that got cut, which means he won’t be able to fight nearly as well. At worst, they would just hurt Haechan further if Mark decides to go after them, and he refuses to take that risk. 

So Mark lays there on the wooden planks, catching his breath and letting the pain settle in as he watches _The Necromancer_ sail away into the sunset. Haechan is standing by the railing still, his blue eyes desperately trying to convey a message that Mark doesn’t understand. 

When Haechan finally gets pulled away from the edge of the ship by Johnny, Mark can’t stand watching it any longer. He gets himself up, wincing as he does, and brushes off his trousers. He looks up to see Yukhei standing there, looking lost, while Renjun is a few docks away with his face buried in his hands. 

“Let’s go back to the _Helios_ and explain what happened,” Mark calls out. Yukhei nods silently, snapping himself out of whatever stupor Jungwoo set him in while Renjun doesn’t give any sign that he heard him at all. Cradling his right arm in his left, Mark tilts his head as a sign that Yukhei should follow him.

As Mark gets closer to Renjun, he can see his shoulders shaking slightly. He walks up beside Renjun and nudges him gently. Mark watches Renjun take a deep, shuddering breath before raising his head up to meet his eyes. They’re red and watery, but no tears have fallen yet by the looks of it, so Mark just gives him the smallest of smiles and starts the long trek back to the _Helios._  

The journey is silent, and they walk along the outskirts so no one will have to see the two British officers in their coats, one clearly injured and vulnerable. Mark’s bicep is screaming in pain, and there’s blood dripping down his entire arm, but it’s nothing compared to the agony that his heart is in.

He had Haechan _so close._ He was _right there_ in Mark’s arms, and even pressed up against his lips no less than three times in the span of just a few hours, yet they have been torn apart once again, and Mark can’t help but think it’s his fault.

His mind flashes back to the conversation he had last night with Haechan about trust, and with the way that the captain had brought that back up again brings Mark to a simple conclusion: Haechan gave himself up in Renjun’s place to earn Mark’s trust back, which is _stupid._  

Haechan is so _stupid._

To think that his trust hadn’t been earned back over the course of the day already, especially during their little visit with Yangyang and when he was willing to put himself between an enemy and Mark just for the sake of Mark’s safety. Mark curses aloud as they round the last bend and the _Helios_ is in sight once more. 

Jisung is standing there on the gangplank, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in excitement when he sees them. He calls something back onto the ship, and suddenly everyone is there from both crews, the rest of them must have returned earlier.

Mark hates how his eyes shoot up to the crow’s nest of their own accord, because it’s empty as expected. No red-haired captain waiting for him with a silver-tongued remark spilling from his lips about Mark being slow enough that he managed to get himself injured. Mark can’t even retort back to his imaginary-Haechan that it was because of him.

Jaemin and Jeno are cheering, shouting Renjun’s name, but Mark can see the healer curl his arms tighter around himself and duck his head at the sound of their voices, and it isn’t because he’s blushing. The celebrations from the ship quiet down substantially as Mark, Yukhei, and Renjun step onto the gangplank.

Mark figures that it’s because they can finally see that they’re missing Haechan, Mark is injured, Renjun is most definitely not okay, and Yukhei looks like he’s seen a ghost—which, Mark supposes, he more or less _has._

“What happened?” Jisung is the first one to speak after everyone is safely aboard. “Where is he?”

Taeil and Kun are already tending to Mark’s arm, sitting him down on the deck so they can work with more ease, before Renjun even has the chance to respond.

“That bastard was supposed to let me die! He wasn’t supposed to trade places! That wasn’t in the deal!” Renjun is fuming, spewing words angrily, but there are hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he paces the length of the deck. 

“What the hell do you _mean_ you were supposed to die?” Jeno steps forward, lips twisting into a scowl. “What deal are you talking about? What did Haechan _do?”_  

“He did everything he wasn’t supposed to! It was the deal that we made when he let me stay aboard! I came up with it and he agreed!” Renjun is exasperated, like Jeno should know this information already and it’s irritating that he doesn’t.

“Renjun! What deal?” Jaemin tries his hand at asking, but Renjun ignores him, too absorbed in his methodical pacing. His face is cradled in his hands, but the tears are leaking through his fingers now. It’s clear that Renjun has never been like this because even the _Helios_ crew seems a bit lost on what to do until Jisung’s voice rises above the sobs.

“ _Renjun._ ” Jisung steps in front of him, putting his hands on his shoulders to stop him. “What deal did you and Haechan make when he decided to let you stay?”

Renjun hiccups, collecting himself before he speaks.

“That if things ever escalated to the point where the life of a crew member had to be risked, that I would be the one to go. I decided on the deal, and he tried to talk me out of it, into something less severe, but I was adamant about proving my worth to him and the crew. So, I convinced him that this was the only deal I would accept in exchange for him allowing me to stay aboard the _Helios._ ”

“He _what?”_ Jeno thunders, angry in a way Mark hasn’t seen him, but Renjun just keeps plowing on.

“And then he went and broke the deal _anyway!_ I was supposed to die, _not him!”_ He yells before crumpling into a heap, sobbing into his elbow. Jeno and Jaemin are both there to comfort him before Mark can even think about asking if he is alright—he clearly isn’t, but it’s polite to ask. 

Next to him, Jisung stumbles back, leaning against the mainmast for support, shaking as he sinks to the ground in disbelief. Tears of his own make an appearance on his lash line, trickling down his face one at a time when he tries to blink them away.

“He told us that he just trusted you alone on their ship for the longest and that was the end of the discussion on it.” Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, distressed. “That was all he let us know after he gave you up… Injunnnie, you have to know that Jeno and I were distraught for _days_ over this and we didn’t know if we could trust our own captain anymore because of it—”

“My brother is aboard _The Necromancer._ I was never going to be harmed,” Renjun says, his voice shaking.

“Sicheng?” Chenle pipes up from where he’s crouched next to Jisung. “But you always said that he was—”

“Dead, yes. Presumed dead for years for quite some time. By the company, by my family, by me.” Renjun lets out a bitter laugh. “Turns out that he had just turned to a life of pirating instead. He survived the same wreck that the _Helios_ found me in, only he had been picked up earlier by another ship when it came by and I wasn’t visible apparently. We reunited, and although I was a captive on their ship, I never would have been hurt.”

“But would you have been let go?” Jeno asks gently, running his fingers through Renjun’s hair.

The question must take Renjun by surprise because his eyes squeeze shut and he doesn’t answer for a tense moment.

“I don’t know,” he says at last.

“Then his choice to put himself in your place won’t be for nothing.” Jaemin wraps his arms around Renjun’s middle and rests his chin on his shoulder from behind. Something about that comment makes Mark want to throw something at Jaemin.

“Of course it wasn’t for nothing,” he growls, and all attention turns to him, including Renjun’s curious gaze. “He did everything for a reason, and now it’s up to us to make sure his sacrifice isn’t wasted.”

“You’re hurt,” Renjun says quietly, as if noticing for the first time. Mark raises an eyebrow before he cries out after his upper arm twinges painfully.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he grits out, narrowing his eyes.

“Let me,” Renjun offers, already moving closer to Mark. He just sighs and raises the hand on his good arm as if to say _do whatever you want, nothing can hurt me more than having to watch the man I love leave again._ Given that Renjun probably didn’t catch that whole internal monologue, Mark verbally responds out of courtesy.

“Go ahead.”

Renjun takes a small bottle out of his bag with one hand and begins undoing bandage on his hastily-dressed arm. Mark grinds his teeth together when whatever liquid was in the bottle stings brutally in his cut, but he won’t cry out or shed a tear. He doesn’t deserve to.

“What did Donghyuck tell you?” Jisung turns to Mark. Renjun gasps out a curse at Jisung, whipping around to look at him and consequently pressing too hard on Mark’s cut because of the way he moved. Mark flinches away, exhaling through his teeth, but there’s too much going on nonverbally around him for Mark to be able to focus on the pain.

Chenle slaps his hands over Jisung’s mouth almost comically, but the words are already ringing around the wooden boards that make up the _Helios,_ and Mark absorbs their reactions carefully. He takes in the panicked looks of Haechan’s crew and compares them to the lost expressions on his own men before he scours his mind for an adequate response to fill the silence.

“Who is Donghyuck?” He asks slowly, his eyes jumping between Jisung and Jeno, who are now glaring at each other.

“He was going to know sooner versus later, and now we can all stop dancing around it.” Jisung’s voice is defensive as he takes Chenle’s hands away from his mouth. Jeno looks like he wants to interrupt him for a moment, but Jisung sends another pointed look his way that shuts him up, albeit unhappily.

“So…” Mark quirks an eyebrow at the scene in front of him. “Are you going to tell me or what?”

“Donghyuck is Haechan,” Jisung states, and it takes Mark aback. 

“He is _who?”_ Mark squints, leaning forward until Renjun has to put a hand on his uninjured arm to pull him back into seated position on the floor of the main deck again.

“Haechan is the name that Donghyuck took on when he joined _The Eve._ He did that because the captain, Junmyeon, went by his own chosen name as well. You might know him better as Suho.”

Mark sucks in a harsh breath, nodding. Before Haechan, Suho had been Mark’s sworn enemy because of a supposed affiliation between him and the pirate group that had murdered his mother. 

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Renjun states plainly as he ties a new bandage around Mark’s arm. “What matters is that Mark can decipher this.”

Renjun takes out something from his pocket and hold it out for Mark to take. It’s Haechan’s journal, or, his father’s journal. This must be what Haechan handed off to Renjun when they hugged because he knows for a fact that Haechan had it while Renjun was gone. 

“Why me?” He asks, taking the journal with careful hands. “What makes you think I can decipher this?”

“I don’t know,” Renjun sighs. “I wish I could tell you, but all he told me is that you’re the only one who would understand. Did he tell you anything?”

“He said something about remembering Simon’s? Which doesn’t make any sense.” Mark wracks his brain for the exact wording of what he had said, but he comes up empty-handed. “I’ll figure it out. For now, we all need some rest after today. Some more than others, but it’s important that we all get it.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Jeno offers. “We won’t leave here until we figure out that journal and know where to head.”

“Agreed,” Jisung hums. “Unfortunately, Donghyuck has the compass so we can’t use it to follow him.”

“They headed west, not north.” Yukhei frowns. “How would a compass help us?”

“Not just any compass,” Renjun says, running a hand through his hair. “Donghyuck’s compass points to what the holder wants most, whether it be a conscious or unconscious want. I’m sure if we were to hand the compass to Mark, it would lead him straight to Donghyuck.”

“It’s a theory worth testing when we have Haechan or the compass,” Mark starts, standing up slowly. “But right now we have neither and thinking about this will do us no good. Everyone turn in for the night and we’ll talk again in the morning.”

There is a series of goodnight biddings, but Mark leaves halfway through to go walk into the captain’s cabin. Even after just the small amount of time he spent alone in the captain’s cabin on _The Empress II,_ Mark has grown to hate living in such large rooms with no one to share the space or the warmth.

Thoughts of him plague Mark for the remainder of the night, and he finds himself turning over the journal thoughtfully between his hands after having scanned through it twice to see if he could figure it out. But he couldn’t, so he sits on Haechan’s—no, Donghyuck’s—bed, and thumbs through the pages full of writing that he can’t decipher, trying to figure out what it all means. His head is both too empty and too full at the same time and there’s a dull throbbing behind his eyes

With a groan he falls back onto the bed, and wants to cry when the pillow still smells like him; like sea salt and sunshine and love. He can’t sleep here and he knows it, so he creeps out of the cabin, barely sparing Jeno a nod at the helm before he climbs up to the crow’s nest.

He doesn’t know how long he sits up there, listening to the waves and feeling the breeze card through his hair gently, but as the sky earns purples and pinks at the horizon, Mark lets himself drift off into a fitful slumber under the dimming stars at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a ha ha  
> yeah i'm not sorry (pls stop threatening to kill mark, tho)  
> see you all in chapter 15 :D  
> <3


	15. Another Cinderella Story (It's the Same One, but More Sober)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moral of the story: drunk mark is an unreliable narrator, so here's what really happened that night

**SIX YEARS AGO - Lee Donghyuck**

**Simon’s Bar in London, England**

* * *

 

The stars were dimmer here, above the streetlamps that lined the cobblestone streets of London. The air laid itself thick and heavy over the buildings, leaving the sun to disappear behind the curtains of dense clouds that never seem to leave the sky. The silence between the crowded buildings stifled whatever parts that the air couldn’t reach.

Donghyuck’s quiet footsteps padded alongside Junmyeon’s, both of them keeping their chins down as they sped through the open streets. A few paces behind, Xiumin, Sehun, and Chanyeol followed with equal amounts of wariness. 

They were out of place, but if they hugged the shadows and didn’t make too much noise, there was a higher chance that they could get in and out with exactly what they came for.

Now that Donghyuck thought about it, he didn’t even know what it was they were here for. All Junmyeon had told him was that they needed to keep a low profile from the moment they docked to the moment they departed or the royal navy would be all over their asses.

“Haechan,” Junmyeon said lowly, his voice only carrying far enough for it to reach the young boy next to him. “You take watch tonight. The moment something goes wrong, I want you to alert us if we haven't noticed already, and then get out of there. We’ll all rendezvous back at  _ The Eve _ at dawn.”

“You sound like you know something’s going to go wrong,” Donghyuck whispered back. He glanced around to see if there was anyone else on the street, but it was completely deserted aside from his crew. “What did Wendy and Joy tell you to make you so nervous about this?”

“Nothing that we didn’t already know,” he replied, putting a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder to steer him sharply into an alleyway that cut through the line of buildings. “Just that no matter how careful we are about this, we have a very limited amount of time here.”

“Why are we here anyway?” Donghyuck asked as they emerged on the other side of the alley onto a street that looked completely identical to the one that they had just been. “What is here that isn’t back in the Caribbean?”

“Yixing is here. Tipped us off about something that could lead us to the treasure I’ve been after.”

“Cortés’ treasure?” Donghyuck stopped abruptly, and Junmyeon paused a few paces ahead but didn’t look back. “That is cursed! We’ve both heard the stories! Why do you want it?”

“Keep your voice down, Hyuck,” Xiumin said quietly, ruffling his hair. “And try not to press the subject, alright? Suho will explain in his own time, but if Yixing is here, that is going to take up all of his attention.”

“He wants Yixing to come back,” Donghyuck breathed, everything clicking into place. “This has nothing to do with Cortés’ treasure at all, does it?”

Xiumin opened his mouth to respond, but Junmyeon spoke up first.

“This is a matter that will be discussed in private. Now come, we have places to be and things to do and we’re already short on time.”

Junmyeon left no further room for discussion, taking off with long strides once more. Donghyuck looked at Xiumin, but all the medic could do was shrug helplessly before ushering him along so they didn’t lose sight of their captain.

The rest of the walk, Donghyuck actually tried to pay attention to the path they took. Which alleys they cut through, which streets they turned on, because if he ended up having to get back to the ship alone, it was imperative that he knew how to leave and how to leave  _ quickly. _

The bar itself, when it arrived within view, was much less assuming than Donghyuck had expected. Although now that he thought about it, Junmyeon’s choice made perfect sense. Pick somewhere small, relatively busy, act like you know what you’re doing, and everything will turn out as planned.

And so it started out that way, at least.

“Go sit on the other side of the bar, Haechan,” Junmyeon told him quietly. “You’ll have a better vantage point from over there.”

Donghyuck nodded, not happy but placated for the time being. He pointedly grabbed a beer on his way over though, just to spite Junmyeon because he didn’t like it when Donghyuck drank.

He seated himself down at a small table in the back that was far enough out of the way that he wouldn’t be bothered unnecessarily, but still close enough that he could clearly see everything happening in the room. A lantern hung above him, casting a gentle flickering glow across his hands in a way that fascinated him.

The phenomenon of the light didn’t occupy him for long, though, and he soon found himself digging through the pockets of his coat until he found a thin strand of rope. He held it between his hands and began to tie and untie the most ridiculously intricate knots he could think of, just for the sake of keeping himself busy as he started out the window next to him.

The door to the bar opened on occasion, letting him know that another patron had either arrived or exited, but every time he checked back over on his crew, everything was fine. There was no sign of Yixing yet, but nothing was going wrong and that was what mattered.

It got to the point where he stopped caring enough to glance over and check periodically, simply opting to just look out the window and count as many of the dim stars as he could see from his viewpoint.

The door swung open again, and it just added to the muted chaos already in the bar that Donghyuck had already tuned out. The frayed end of the rope between his fingers unraveled more as he continued to tie knots in it over and over again, staring out the window in a feeble attempt to stave off the boredom. 

A cursory glance out of the corner of his eye told Donghyuck that Yixing still had yet to show because of how Junmyeon was still looking around anxiously. There was something else that stopped him—or, it was more of  _ someone. _

There was a boy standing at the bar, his body angled in such a way that Donghyuck could make out the profile of his face in the dim, flickering light of the bar. 

And by the King this boy was beautiful. 

Dark hair that was swept up off of his forehead, just brushing the top of his perfectly arched eyebrows. His fair skin is what clued Donghyuck into him most likely being a resident of cloudy London versus the sunny Caribbean. There was a sparkle in his big brown eyes that made Donghyuck want to walk over there and ask him what he found so amusing, and then the bartender whom he was speaking to said something that made him nearly choke on a sip of his drink. Donghyuck cracked a smile at that, but the moment the boy’s head began to turn away from the bartender, Donghyuck nearly gave himself whiplash while looking away.

His heart was beating out of his chest, and surely the boy could hear it from across the room. The vision of the blush adorning the boy’s high cheekbones stuck in his mind clear as day, and as he stared out the window, he could still see it burned into his eyelids every time he blinked. The sun set hours ago, but Donghyuck didn’t much like keeping track of time anyway.

He felt eyes on the side of his head and he turned to curse out the culprit but when he met the gaze, he couldn’t help but freeze with his lips parted slightly, the words dying on his tongue.

It was the boy, staring back at him with his mouth opened slightly and his brown eyes wide and beautiful. The world stopped for a moment and Donghyuck couldn’t help it when his vision narrowed down to just the boy, everything else blurring at the edges. 

The moment passed and Donghyuck’s normal spark of courage returned in time for him to raise a single finger and beckon him across the room with its crook. He vaguely felt a smile on his lips as the boy nearly tripped over himself in his haste to greet Donghyuck’s beckon. 

“I think you’re cute and I want to get to know you better,” Donghyuck said, surprising even himself with his bold choice of words. The boy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, the rose color of his cheeks only deepened, so Donghyuck figured that was as much of a signal to continue as he was going to get for now. 

“Me too,” the boy responded. His voice was lower than Donghyuck expected, but still sweet and warm. Donghyuck’s smile grew because this boy saw something in him as well, so he pocketed the frayed rope and made a loose gesture at the chair across the small table for him to take.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” If he was bold earlier, this was bordering on brazen for someone he didn’t know at all, but there was something that captivated Donghyuck and he couldn’t help but be sucked into the boy’s aura.

“Mark.” The boy sat down quickly, placing his mug on the table between them before tucking his hands underneath his legs. Donghyuck wanted to ask why he did that until he saw the barest of tremors pass through his pale wrist and he realized that the boy’s—Mark’s—hands were shaking.

Hopefully in anticipation and not fear; Donghyuck had yet to figure that one out.

“Okay, Mark,” Donghyuck said slowly, drawing out the name to test its weight on his tongue, enjoying the way it curled around the back of his throat with the last consonant. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” Mark giggled lightly, spreading his arms as if to show that he knew that he was an open book to Donghyuck. 

“Something that no one else knows,” he responded after a beat. He could read Mark pretty well overall: clean hands and face meant that he was well off, the stiffness to his shoulders told him that he probably attended some sort of strict boarding school, and the smooth palms of his upturned hands just screamed sheltered pretty boy. But Donghyuck didn’t care so much about those things than he did about the things he couldn’t read from the outside—he wanted to know everything about Mark.

“I love the ocean. Sailing on it gives me a sense of freedom that nothing else does, and it lets me feel like I’m not tied down anywhere.” It took him a moment to reply, but what words ended up pouring from his lips were more than Donghyuck could have imagined. He could picture Mark as a young sailor, but it was the smooth palms that still threw him off. Any seasoned sailor should have calluses from dealing with the ropes, and usually from handling a sword as well, but Mark didn’t show any sign of that.

“I feel the same way,” Donghyuck said slowly, smiling as his gaze lingered on Mark’s hands before they disappeared back under his legs. He left the silence wide open, inviting Mark to ask him a question in return, and it took a moment too long for him to catch on, his eyes widening as a light clicked on behind his eyes.

“What’s  _ your  _ name?”

Despite how obvious as the question was, it still took Donghyuck aback.  _ The Eve _ was a well-known ship, even in these parts, and he had no idea if he was going to be identified tonight because of it. The absolute last thing he wanted was for Mark to be in any sort of danger because he knew Donghyuck’s real name, but there was a significant risk of telling him his bestowed name because it was more easily recognizable.

He was so close to throwing his inhibitions away and telling Mark his real name, but one more look into his wide, innocent eyes made Donghyuck’s internal scales tip the other way at the very last moment.

“Haechan,” he said at last.

“Haechan.” Mark tried the name out, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but want to hear it from his lips over and over. “Where are you from?” His eyes roved across Donghyuck’s exposed skin, and it was clear that he already knew he wasn’t from these parts. He wasn’t sure what sort of fluttery feeling he was getting in his lungs from having Mark’s eyes on him like that, but he needed to ask Xiumin to check him out later.

“I grew up on a small island in the Caribbean named Pearl Bay.” He spoke the truth, and could do nothing to stop the flood of childhood memories that overtook his senses for a split second, and he had to blink a little harder for the next few moments. “I grew up an orphan, but I sail around with my ten best friends now and they’re the closest thing to family that I’ve got.”

“Well, when I become a sailor, I’ll make sure to visit Pearl Bay and find you there!” Mark’s eyes lit up with the idea, and Donghyuck felt himself do the same as an idea of his own came to mind.

“No, don’t go to Pearl Bay to find me. Go to Tortuga.” He tapped his fingers on the table, trying to figure out how to describe it without scaring Mark off or incriminating himself. “It’s an island in the Caribbean that’s wild and fun and I go there every chance I get.” The description was a bit juvenile, but it didn’t matter.

“Well I’ll find you at Tortuga when I become a sailor.” 

They didn’t speak for a few moments after that, but the silence that stretched between them was anything but awkward. It exuded a type of comfort with each other that Donghyuck didn’t regularly experience, and it made his heart beat a little faster than it should.

“Mark?” He broke the silence as suggestion popped into his mind, and watched in fascination as Mark’s brown eyes snapped up to meet his own. “How much do you know about drinking games?”

“Not much.” Mark bit his lower lip gently, deep in thought. “My friend is the one who participates and I’m the one sitting off to the side making sure he gets home okay.”

“Quite the friend you have there,” he comments, raising an eyebrow and taking a long drink out of his own mug in hopes to hide his unwanted jealousy. 

“What are we going to play?” Mark leaned back in his chair. Donghyuck grinned, forcing his eyes not to follow the way Mark released his bottom lip and slowly licked over it. He was beginning to think that Mark didn’t even know what he was doing, and maybe that was what sparked him to reach into a pocket of his jacket and fish out four dice.

He normally didn’t use them because of what they meant, but he figured that if he was going to drop a hint about how to decode his father’s journal to anyone, it was going to be this stranger of a gorgeous boy who he may never meet again but would most likely plague his thoughts for the next several months at the minimum.

“Ever heard of Liar’s Dice?”

The way Mark gasped was comical—he almost fell out of his chair with the force of the air he drew into his lungs, and it took a moment of him flailing to find his balance on the seat again.

“The  _ pirate _ game?”

The way he sounded so offended by the idea of pirates made Donghyuck snort and roll his eyes, not caring about how pretentious that may have looked.

“The game that we are going to play is a loose variation on the game that the infamous crew of  _ The Flying Dutchman _ used to play.” He reached over the table to pat Mark’s flushed cheek, both as a comforting gesture and as an excuse to feel his soft skin. “You’re not going to lose your soul tonight, cutie, only your sobriety.”

He brushed his thumb carefully over Mark’s cheekbones, watching as the boy in front of him struggled to find coherent words. It was obvious that he wanted to be offended by the insinuation that he was going to lose, but he leaned into Donghyuck’s palm and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and it was clear that his train of thought had just disappeared into thin air.

Donghyuck smirked. This boy was so easy to read, easy to want, and easy to seduce. He took his hand away and Mark seemed to turn back into a functioning human being again, shaking himself back into reality.

“What makes you think that I’m the one who is going to be drunk at the end of this?” He looked so serious asking the question, his lips curling into a small pout, and Donghyuck couldn’t stop himself from throwing his head back in laughter. Even his own crew knows better than to play Liar’s Dice against him now because of how good he is.

“I’ve been playing this game for years,” he explained once he can speak normally again. “No beginner’s luck can outmatch my experience.”

Mark seemed to weigh his options, flicking his gaze back and forth between Donghyuck’s eyes and the dice on the table between them.

“So,” he said slowly, giving the barest of nods, “what are we betting then?”

“Get a tray of six shots, and we’ll play six rounds. The loser of each round takes a shot,” he suggested. Mark stood up with a nervous smile and began to make his way back to the bar when Donghyuck called out to him again. “Ask the bartender for the clear stuff on the top shelf.”

He watched as Mark made his way back through the steadily growing crowd before he spoke again.

“Tell Junmyeon you’re here,” Donghyuck didn’t have to turn around to know that someone was sitting near them the whole time, and the laugh that followed his words only confirmed his suspicions

“But I was having so much fun watching the show,” Yixing said lightly. “You’ve grown into quite the young man already. I’m surprised your little toy isn’t already a puddle on the floor.”

“He’s not a toy, Yixing.” His voice is harsh and low. “And neither is Junmyeon.”

A sigh.

“I know. But you know why I can’t face him.”

“If you’re talking about why you left last time, that’s the whole reason he wants to see you again,” Donghyuck commented. “He’s worried about you. The whole crew is.”

“No, they—”

“Yes they are, Yixing,” Donghyuck tore the words from his throat with a growl as he turned around to face the man that he hadn’t seen in months. “No matter what you may think of yourself, you’re family, and we protect family until the end. That was the deal.”

“Keyword: was,” Yixing sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. It wasn’t a look that Donghyuck was used to seeing clean-cut and orderly Yixing bear, and it definitely wasn’t something he liked. “You have no idea what that was like.”

“You of all people know that I do.” He didn’t have to explain himself any further. Yixing was the first one on  _ The Eve _ that he opened up to about his past, specifically his abandonment, and now that he was trying to defend himself by saying that Donghyuck didn’t know what it was like to be left behind struck a tender chord inside of him. “Now get your ass on the other side of that bar and give our emotionally constipated captain an attitude adjustment. He’s been unbearable lately.”

“I’ll do my best.” Yixing stood and reached over Donghyuck’s shoulder to grab his mug of beer and chug it all without stopping. “If I don’t come back, it wasn’t his fault.”

“Who’s would it be then? Yours?” Donghyuck snorted, watching Yixing put the mug back on the table, laying sideways next to the dice. “Just come back and we won’t have a problem.”

“No promises,” he warned, but all that did was make Donghyuck smile.

“Never are any good ones to keep,” he parroted the first words that Yixing ever spoke to him. They shared a look before Donghyuck blinked and Yixing disappeared before his very eyes, just like always. He couldn’t dwell on whether or not he would actually follow through with seeing Junmyeon before he spotted Mark worming his way back through the crowd.

“So,” Mark said, placing a tray of six small metal cups on the table; he cast an odd glance at Donghyuck’s beer mug before he continued. “How do I play?”

“It’s simple,” Donghyuck said, reaching for the dice and he began to explain the game to the boy across the table. The small letters engraved onto the dice seemed to burn into his palm as he spoke, so he put them down in front of Mark.

“Sounds simple enough.” Mark shrugged after Donghyuck was done, taking the dice from the table in front of him. He barely gets to cup his palms over them before Donghyuck is stretching across the table, gently pulling his fingers apart with soft laughter.

“You don’t roll the dice with your hands, cutie. It’s too easy to cheat if you do that. Roll them in your mug.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he peered tentatively into his mostly-full mug.

“It still has beer in it, though,” he pouted, running a finger along the rim.

“Then drink it so we can play,” Donghyuck snickered lightly. Mark looked incredulous, eyeing the beer with a hilarious degree of skepticism.

“You want me to chug the rest of this?”

Donghyuck desperately wanted to point out that no one ever said he had to chug anything, but the poor boy looked a little overwhelmed, so he took pity on him by snatching the mug out from underneath Mark’s fingertips.

“Here, I’ll give you the advantage then.” Donghyuck tipped the mug back and drank the rest of the contents before slamming it upside down on the table with a self-satisfied smile. “Let’s begin.”

The first round Donghyuck plays fair, and wins fair. Mark’s eyebrows had drawn together at the prospect of having to down a few ounces of potent alcohol, but had downed it like a champ moments later. His entire face contorted with discomfort as he swallowed the liquid, and it made Donghyuck giggle.

“Impressive,” he laughed when Mark took an exceptionally long blink. “If I didn’t know any better I wouldn’t think you’re new to shots.”

“Who says I’m new?” Mark challenged, slamming the small container upside down back on the tray, the resounding noise almost painfully loud. He rolls his eyes at Mark as he scoops his dice back into his mug.

It was obvious that Mark was new to a lot of things alcohol-related, and Donghyuck was already a little worried about having the boy do six shots because he clearly wasn’t going to win, and his state was only going to get worse.

There was no telling how much of this night he would remember, let alone how much of it he would remember correctly.

“Me,” he responded, knowing his voice was flat but the corners of his lips raised. “Now are you ready for the next round?”

Mark nodded, the light in his eyes determined, but as the rounds went on, the determination turned into inebriation faster than Donghyuck could think about cheating. He had been planning on using that as a backup in case Mark ended up being better than planned, but he never once found himself needing, nor wanting, to cheat.

“How do you win so much?” Mark pouted after Donghyuck tipped back his first shot of the night. Mark had lost the round and all of the ones before that, but Donghyuck had plucked the sixth shot right out of his slow fingers and drank it before Mark could even furrow his eyebrows.

“You just need more practice,” he deflected, leaving out the  _ and it helps when you aren’t piss drunk _ because he wasn’t sure that Mark would appreciate that comment. “Then you’ll be as good as me.”

“If we play again, I am sure that I will beat the grandmaster,” he proclaimed before dissolving into giggles. Donghyuck hadn’t stopped smiling for most of the night, but hearing the sound of this boy’s laughter made his grin grow and his stomach flutter and his heart beat faster.

He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew that he wanted to hear Mark’s laughter again and again.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight, Mark.” Donghyuck gently laid his hand on top of Mark’s, but the boy didn’t look as if he registered the touch. He simply continued to gaze straight into Donghyuck’s eyes until he finally parted his lips to speak.

“Your eyes look like the ocean on a summer day,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, his elbow that acted as a support just narrowly missing landing squarely on one of the dice. “They sparkle like the waves and have a depth that no one has explored.”

Donghyuck wanted to badly to laugh off the drunk overly-romantic poetry that Mark was spouting, but the way his eyes held nothing but sincerity made him swallow it down. He let Mark lean forward until their noses were almost brushing.

“I’ve studied constellations in school, you know, and I’ve been fascinated with their beauty ever since I was little and my mother would take me out to go stargazing,” Mark continued on. “But I’ve never seen stars this beautiful up so close.”

It took a moment to understand what Mark was getting at, but when Mark reached out a finger to trace across his cheek, Donghyuck could do nothing to stop the blush from flaming across his cheeks, underneath the freckles on his skin that Mark was so enamoured with. Donghyuck swallowed hard and let Mark trace his thumb across the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbone, and down his jaw in a zig-zag pattern, connecting the dots across his surely-flushed skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Mark murmured, more to himself than to Donghyuck, but it just made the tiny bit of bashfulness that he still held inside of him jump out as he averted his eyes. He only looked back when he felt a thumb gently swipe across his lower lip, and there was Mark, studying his slightly-parted mouth with fascination. Donghyuck was torn in between licking at his thumb and just swooping in close enough to kiss him when the door to the bar banged open.

Donghyuck pulled away, peering over Mark’s shoulder to see what was going on. Yixing and Junmyeon were standing in the doorway, facing each other with their swords crossed, shouting incomprehensible words at each other through the chaos. Donghyuck could see Xiumin, Sehun, and Chanyeol stand up from their table across the bar, all of them reaching for their weapons.

This was only going to be messy, and the absolute last thing he wanted was for Mark to get mixed up in this pirate’s business, so when Mark started to turn his head to see what was going on, Donghyuck did the first thing he could think of.

He put both hands on the side of Mark’s face and lunged the rest of the way across the remaining gap to press their lips together. Mark’s eyes fluttered shut, but Donghyuck kept his own open to watch the scene going on across the room. It was weird to do it, but it was necessary.

Junmyeon had leveled his blade at Yixing’s throat, but Yixing had aimed his own so the tip was brushing against Junmyeon’s chest. If either of them were to move forward in the slightest, there was no guarantee that either of them would live. Donghyuck was too far away to make out exactly what they were saying, but it was clear enough that they were arguing about the crew and the treasure. 

Mark wrapped one arm around Donghyuck’s waist underneath his coat, and he was afraid for a moment that he was reaching for his sword until Mark’s free hand went to cup the back of Donghyuck’s neck and his lips continued to respond with sloppy eagerness.

Donghyuck angled Mark’s head a bit to the side so their lips slotted together more cleanly, which was mind-blowing, but he had done it for the more selfish reason of being able to see more clearly.

Yixing said something that made Junmyeon freeze, but Chanyeol had crept up behind Yixing and hooked his own blade around the front of his neck. That gave Junmyeon time to stumble back, catching his breath. Donghyuck could see the gears in his mind turning, and when he looked up, he was staring right back at Donghyuck.

“Go,” he said. Donghyuck didn’t hear it, but it was clear enough to tell what he said. He pulled away from Mark quickly, and with a nod, mouthed his own response.

“Be back at sunrise.” Donghyuck could only hope his message translated across in time because the ring of onlookers in the bar cut Junmyeon off from his view and he was left hoping that his captain understood.

Mark blinked his eyes open slowly in front of him, and it pushed Donghyuck into action. He brought his leg down off of the table and scooped the dice back into the pocket where they belonged before latching onto Mark’s wrist. He tugged him up from his seat and half-dragged, half-led him through the throng of bodies and out the back door.

“Why did we leave?” Mark panted out as they emerged into an empty alleyway. They were both breathing hard, but Donghyuck recovered first.

“There was a fight starting and I didn’t want to end up being caught in the middle of it.” The half-truth slipped from his tongue easily, because he didn’t want to tell Mark that he’s a pirate and his captain and one of his crewmates were about to get into a duel in the middle of a bar when they had originally come to negotiate for supplies and find the very crewmate that was pointing his sword at their captain.

Donghyuck didn’t want to focus on that, though, so he pushed the thoughts of  _ The Eve _ and Yixing and Junmyeon out of his mind as he crowded Mark against the cold brick wall of the bar. They stood there for a moment, chests pressed together, Mark’s eyes sparkling as he opened his mouth.

“Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to kiss me again?” Mark looked surprised that those words came out of his own mouth, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel the same. Soft and cute Mark shouldn’t be getting this bold, so Donghyuck took matters into his own hands as he dove in to capture Mark’s lips before he could dig himself into a deeper hole.

Mark clearly didn’t know what to do with his hands for a moment, skirting up and down Donghyuck’s body until they settled on the sides of his face, using the leverage to tip Donghyuck’s head slightly so the angle would be better. Donghyuck smiled against Mark’s lips, sliding his palms against Mark’s cheeks so his pinkies brushed just under his ears, but Mark pulled away sharply with a giggle that made Donghyuck want to melt.

“Your hands are rough,” he chimed. Donghyuck’s momentary confusion softened into fond annoyance as Mark took his hands in his own, stroking over the calluses on the surfaces of his palm. A smile danced across his mouth as he brought Donghyuck’s hands closer enough to press the smallest of kisses over each bump and imperfection.

Donghyuck had never seen any particular beauty in the calluses and scars all along his palms, but as he tried to see it from Mark’s perspective, he started to understand. Mark wanted to be a sailor, and saw Donghyuck’s hands as a sign of the hard work that he puts into being a sailor himself, and he equated that to the beauty of the thing he wanted the most.

“You’ll lose your soft hands when you become a sailor,” Donghyuck assured, lacing their fingers together and brushing the backs of Mark’s knuckles along his lips gently. “Your very own sailor hands,” he murmured before slowly nudging their hands backwards until they came in contact with the bricks on either side of Mark’s head. 

He leaned in close enough to feel the heat under Mark’s skin sizzle in the air between them, but didn’t touch him… not yet. He knew that Mark was, well,  _ inebriated _ to say the least, and he didn’t want to take initiative where Mark may not want it, but when the boy giggled and moved forward of his own accord to press his lips to Donghyuck’s, it wasn’t like he could say no.

Donghyuck heard a sigh come from between them, but couldn’t pinpoint who made the noise because he was too caught up in the way Mark gently tugged at his lower lip, suckling on it carefully before letting his head fall back with another joyous laugh. He tried to chase after Donghyuck’s mouth again, but he had already moved on to kissing Mark in other places.

He let his lips wander over the sharp planes of his jaw and down the heated skin of Mark’s neck, reveling in the way his head lolled back when he pressed a kiss into the hollow of his throat, a small groan bubbling up from the boy’s chest. Donghyuck dug past the collar of his shirt to suck at the soft skin, watching in satisfaction as red and purple bloomed up around the bites because Mark would carry a part of Donghyuck with him for at least the next few days.

There was a thin metal chain hanging around his neck, and Donghyuck carefully extracted it to see what it was. A ring dangled on the end, delicate and silver with red stones laid into it, but that wasn’t the part that interested him the most. The ring bore the crest of the royal family, of the King himself, and Donghyuck nearly jumped back when he recognized it.

“Who are you, Mark?” He whispered, his lips still just the breath’s width away from his shoulder as he turned the ring over between his fingers.

“Oh,” Mark responded quietly. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone about that.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Donghyuck pointed out, but Mark just gave him a dopey smile and unclasped their hands so he could run his fingers up Donghyuck’s sides.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Mark persuaded, his index finger and thumb taking a hold of Donghyuck’s chin, pulling him back up until they were face to face once again. “Just like your dice don’t matter. We both are hiding things, Haechan; hiding who we are. Let’s just enjoy what time we have together, alright?”

“My dice?” Donghyuck feigned confusion, hoping that Mark was drunk enough to forget all of this before too long.

“I know a decoding system when I see one, baby,” Mark breathed, leaning closer. “Smart is the new hot, but it sure helps when you’re both.”

Donghyuck didn’t know how to respond to that, so he dropped the ring back under Mark’s shirt as he closed the gap between their lips. He tangled his fingers into Mark’s soft hair, gripping it as a way to ground himself after Mark’s tongue made an appearance. 

If Donghyuck could ascend into another dimension, he would have right then.

The kiss was hot and messy and everything he wanted, but Mark’s light touch and gentle movements let it retain elements of sweetness and innocence that he didn’t remember it being in the first place. Mark was intoxicating, letting Donghyuck drink him all up and only have room in his clouded mind to want more of it.

He had only meant to kiss the boy for a moment before taking his leave, but there was something about Mark that sucked him in and wouldn’t let go. He was addicted to this boy, and that was a dangerous notion within itself. 

They spent countless minutes there together, just soaking up the rest of the time they could afford to spend together. The ring and the dice left their minds for the time being, left only with thoughts of the other because that was the only thing easy enough to think about at the time.

It was simple, and it made everything else seem simple too. Donghyuck’s life had always had a sort of complexity to it that he could never put into words, but just being in Mark’s presence seemed to unravel all of the knots that he’d been trying to find his way out of for years. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time, but all Donghyuck knew is that Mark was what he needed.

Donghyuck eventually forced himself to pull back and stop breathing in from Mark’s lungs just so he could keep his lips as close as possible. Mark hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and Donghyuck took the chance to look him up and down.

His hands were curled into the fabric of Donghyuck’s shirt, and his mouth was hanging open slightly. His cheeks were flushed red, and the littering of bruises just beyond the neckline of his shirt peeked around the seam, making them stand out against his otherwise unmarred pale skin.

Mark slowly blinked open his eyes and it just took Donghyuck’s breath away. His brown eyes had cleared up at some point, the glaze of alcohol had disappeared from his vision and been replaced by a small sparkle as he looked Donghyuck up and down. His gaze lingered on Donghyuck’s lips for long enough to make his cheeks flush once more, this time the blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.

“An earring?” Mark queried, carefully unclenching his fists from Donghyuck’s shirt to reach up and caress the curves of the gold earring that was pierced into his ear. His other hand reached around to play with the soft hairs at the base of Donghyuck’s neck. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged with a small hum, content as Mark dropped the hand at his neck down to his waist, rubbing the skin softly there as he waited patiently for a response.

“It did at first, but I’m used to it now,” he admitted. “It wasn’t even supposed to be an earring, I don’t think. I wore it as a ring when I was younger, but I was so afraid of losing one of the few remnants of my father that I had a friend put it somewhere more permanent.”

Donghyuck winced at the memory of Xiumin carefully piercing that into his ear, and all of the tears and blood that had come with it. It hadn’t been pleasant in the slightest, but he was glad he did it. Mark frowned at his obvious discomfort and leaned in to press a series of kisses up his jaw and around the earring.

“Dawn will be breaking soon,” he muttered into Donghyuck’s ear, and that was enough to make him snap out of their little paradise in the alleyway and back to reality. Mark’s eyebrows furrowed and he put his other hand on Donghyuck’s hips as well as if to keep him from slipping away. “Are you okay?”

“My ship departs at daybreak,” he explained in hopes that they hadn’t left already. “I need to get back to port of Junmyeon  _ will _ leave me.”

The moment Mark opened his mouth to object, Donghyuck leaned in and kissed him with everything he had inside of him. If he had let Mark speak, to try and talk him out of going, he knew he would have listened. He didn’t know if Mark knew how irresistible he was, but he was sure doing a damn good job of using it to exploit Donghyuck’s weakness for pretty boys.

“Goodbye, Mark.” He pulled away so he could murmur the words against his lips, savoring the last seconds of time they could spend together. Mark moved forward, and Donghyuck let himself be pulled into a final achingly sweet kiss. “See you in Tortuga.” He brushed a thumb across Mark’s cheek one last time before ripping himself away and running out of the alleyway without a look back.

He dashed through the streets as fast as he could, praying that he remembered his way back because he couldn’t afford the time it would take to get lost. Wind whipped at his already flushed cheeks as he sprinted down the only vaguely familiar roads.

He couldn’t get his mind off of Mark, and couldn’t help but feel bad for the way he left him there. Donghyuck wanted more time with him, just to get to know him better, talk about his family, maybe kiss him some more, the options were endless. But he knew for sure that if there was one thing he wanted in the world at that exact moment, it would be to take Mark along with him.

Of course, he immediately shut that idea down himself. He didn’t want to get Mark all mixed up in the pirating world—he was too sweet and pure for that, but even the knowledge of that wouldn’t stop him from wanting. Maybe they would meet again some day in Tortuga or elsewhere, or maybe they wouldn’t meet again at all, but he let himself hope—stupidly, foolishly—that there was a chance.

He got to the dock, and therefore  _ The Eve, _ sooner than he had thought he would. Junmyeon welcomed him back aboard and Jongin hauled up the gangplank right after him, sending him a wink that Donghyuck returned as he strolled by. 

As suspected, he was the last one aboard, so the moment the ropes had been untied,  _ The Eve  _ set sail once more back out into open water. Donghyuck finally looked up at the helm, and there was Yixing himself, standing at the wheel with Junmyeon just behind him, talking to him softly.

Donghyuck just grinned and looked away. He was sure the entire crew would tease the two about it later, but he figured that they needed some time to be together again after they had been so forcefully split apart. So instead, he elects to scale the rigging on the side with the initial intention of going all the way up to the crow’s nest, but the sound of hooves galloping on the cobblestones made him stop halfway up.

He turned his head to see two horses rushing down the main boulevard before taking a sharp turn onto the dock, a white mare leading a brown stallion. Both riders were just a blur of blue and gold coats for a moment before they finally slowed down and the rider of the white mare raised a pistol up to aim at the helm. 

Donghyuck flashed a panicked glance there, but it was just Junmyeon and Yixing was nowhere in sight. He frowned, but turned his focus back to the rider of the mare just in time for them to make eye contact over the barrel of the gun, and the rider’s hand fell enough for Donghyuck to make out who it was.

It was Mark, wearing a coat the signified a member of the royal navy, and he was sure that they both looked as equally betrayed as the other. Donghyuck would be willing to wager that the other rider on the dock was the friend that Mark had talked about earlier in the evening because of the way he slowly approached Mark from behind and put a hand on his shoulder.

Mark lowered the gun, cursing loud enough for Donghyuck to hear him a half dozen ship lengths away. The sound of galloping reached Donghyuck’s ears again, and he could see another ten or twelve men riding down onto the docks. He could pick one man out as the Admiral, the one at his side the Commodore, but other than that they were just blobs of blue on tan horses all watching  _ The Eve _ sail away into the rising sun.

They were having a conversation that wasn’t nearly loud enough for Donghyuck to make out, so he just stayed on the rigging until he can’t discern Mark’s blue coat from any of the others. He relaxed finally, feeling the sun warm his back, but he was struck with the thought that it didn’t warm it in the same comforting way that Mark’s hands did.

“Haechan,” Junmyeon called. Donghyuck looked over at the helm to see his captain helping Yixing up before beckoning him down with a crook of his finger, not unlike the way he had beckoned Mark earlier. 

And now he was equating every action to a memory with Mark. Great.

“Yes, Suho?” Donghyuck scrambled down from the rigging, giving up on his previous idea of going to the crow’s nest.

“Who was that?”

“Who was who?” Donghyuck answered easily, but the hand reaching up to fidget with his earring gave him away.

“You know exactly who.” Junmyeon narrowed his eyes. Or, Donghyuck assumed that he did. He narrowed one for sure, but the other one remained hidden under an eyepatch. “The rider on the dock. Who was he?”

“Why were you and Yixing fighting?” Donghyuck deflected, using his own captain’s tactic of changing the subject when most advantageous.

“You didn’t answer my question, Haechan.”

“You didn’t answer mine, Suho.”

They stared each other down for a second before Junmyeon cracked a smile and the tension between them dissipated into nothingness. 

“Alright then,” he laughs, deep and rich from his chest. “Where are we off to next? You choose now that our business in London is complete.” 

He reached into the pocket of his own coat and pulled out a polished black compass, tossing it to Donghyuck smoothly. Yixing smiled at them from his position at the wheel, and Donghyuck saw Jisung and Xiumin talking down on the main deck out of the corner of his eye.

Donghyuck caught it swiftly and flicked it open, waiting for it to tell him what he wanted most. His stomach sunk straight down out of his boots and to the depths of Davy Jones’ locker when the needle spun around and around before eventually pointing backwards. Donghyuck didn’t have to turn around to know that it was directed back at London where a boy in a blue coat on a white horse still resided.

He snapped it shut with a sharp exhale. 

“I don’t have anywhere in particular I want to go,” he said with a shrug, playing it off as best he could with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest for no less than twelve reasons.

“If you say so.” Junmyeon raised the eyebrow above the patch, the one that was split in half due to the nasty scar traveling in a jagged pattern down the side of his face. “Off to Tortuga then, and we’ll make it up as we go along.”

Donghyuck nodded numbly, fiddling with the compass between his fingers. He looked back down at the deck and returned Jisung’s enthusiastic wave. The youngest crew member smiled brightly, holding up his pinkie finger as a reminder that Donghyuck had promised to tell him everything about his trip on land when he returned.

He raised his pinkie back with a grin until Jisung turned away and Donghyuck looked back down at the compass in his hands. He took a deep breath and opened it again, carefully, as if what he wanted most in the world would have changed within the last few moments.

It hadn’t.

That damned compass needle remained pointing straight back at Mark, and there was absolutely nothing that Donghyuck could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, if anyone makes me re-read chapter 3 ever again i might scream bc the amount of time i spent reading that chapter as i wrote this one is ungodly  
> (i hope things are starting to fall into place for you guys bc i'm so so excited to finally get to explain everything, a lot of which will happen next chapter)  
> ((my beta's comment on the end of this chapter was this: "hey i'm glad you were able to get this done! I know you were struggling for a while, but i hope you're happy with how it turned out because it's vvvv good!!" so if val approves, i hope you do too even though it was kind of different))

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my socials about anything <3
> 
>    
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